


Got A Melancholic Temperament (that's what they said to me)

by RedHead



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: (some bad dudes get a little fucked up but it's not graphic in the text), 90's homophobia and social discussions, Age Regression/De-Aging, Canon Typical Violence, Complete, Internalized Homophobia, Len is 19, M/M, Mutilation, Not Legends of Tomorrow Compliant, Panic Attacks, Sex in later chapters, but don't read if that age difference is gonna squick you, coldflash - Freeform, it's a mess but Len's NOT a minor, the fic covers de-aged and re-aged stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-09-29 20:33:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 77,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10143425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedHead/pseuds/RedHead
Summary: A new meta with a strange ability has public opinion divided on whether she’s a menace or a miracle-worker. The jury’s still out on the matter when the Snart siblings get caught in her crosshairs.Or:Leonard and Lisa end up temporarily de-aged. It’ll wear off, but in the meantime, Team Flash has to figure out what the heck to do with them and how to keep them safe. Inviting them to live at the West house seems like a natural, if terrible, solution.[Set after S2, ignores Flashpoint/S3]





	1. The Future's Not Friendly

**Author's Note:**

> The voice for young!Len is going to be a bit different than that of normal!Len. If some of the internal voice, colloquialisms, or word choice seems off, it’s entirely deliberate.

 

 

Lenny opened his eyes and immediately squinted against the light, blinking away the blurriness to a sharper image. His head was pounding in a bad way and he couldn’t remember why, but figured fast that it might have something to do with the cold concrete he was laying on.

He sat up with a groan and looked around. Wherever he was—he told himself not to panic that he didn’t know, there must be some reason he didn’t know—was a total wreck. He cased it fast, eyes darting everywhere. Sun was streaming in the cracked open windows, grimy with dust and more; it looked like the place was once an office of some sort, old furniture all pushed aside now, broken down and… covered in weird gold-colored splotches? And dripping ice?

Wasn’t it summer?

He swallowed hard around the lump in his throat, wracking his brain. The last he remembered it was summer, August, and he was getting info soon for a job with his old man. They’d aced it the night before getting some blueprints, and he’d gone to bed, was supposed to get up in the morning to go gather some intel from the police chatter. So where was he now? Did something go wrong?

He stood up. Or tried to. His heart was beating so fast he was almost lightheaded and he let out a quiet sound, hoping no one would be around to hear. He was sweating bullets and looked down and—what the shit was he _wearing_? Why was he in boots that felt a half-size too big (he wiggled his toes) that he didn’t even recognize, black pants that were threatening to fall off his skinny butt with a shirt and sweater _and_ … a parka?

What. The. Hell.

Okay, he might be panicking a little. Because he definitely didn’t own these clothes and he didn’t know where he was and he could feel the weight of what was probably a glock nested in the back of his pants (dragging them lower and he oughtta tighten the belt) and there was a weird holster on his hip that was hanging down, empty. His eyes darted from it to the massive gun on the ground that looked like it belonged in Robocop or The Running Man or something. But it would probably fit the holster.

Gingerly, forcing his hand to steady, he hoisted it up and slid it into the holster. Perfect fit. Awesome, his brain supplied, deadpan. This was… probably his.

He checked his (loose) watch again. He’d been in this office for three minutes, 17 seconds. 18. 19. He swallowed again. That was too long. He needed to—

“ _Mmmrrrnnnnggghhhh…_ ”

SHIT!

Someone else was here. Lenny sucked in a slow breath and forced himself to calm down. Maybe they’d have answers. He had a gun and he knew how to use it. He might have only ever killed one person but—his knees locked and he pushed aside the memory, pushed down the bile, it wasn’t worth remembering, it wasn’t any good to worry about it now—

“’ello? Hellooooo? Any— _hic_ —body—I—I think I’m—”

Lenny dropped the gun to the ground like it was on fire. That was _Lisa’s_ voice.

“Lisey?!”

“Leo!”

He ran around the desks to the sound of her voice, slipping on ice, sliding into a wall. But she was there, trying and failing to stand, crying and—

Those clothes were about ten sizes too big for her. What the _hell_ was going on?

 

[ … ]

 

Time travel. It was the _only_ explanation. It was a horrible explanation. He kept shoving down the panic. This was not okay. But it couldn’t be an elaborate joke—it just—there was no way. He’d fallen asleep and woken up in some bizarro remake of Back To The Future. One where he must’ve swapped places with his future self or… something.

Lenny went over the facts he’d gathered in the past few hours, forcing himself to remain calm. If he kept repeating them, he might figure out what to do next.

One, the newspapers all said that the date was in August 2016, exactly 24 years _post_ where his memory stopped. Two, he was definitely still 19 except Lisa was only just barely 6, so their ages were off by a little bit, or their memories were. And it wasn’t just amnesia or else he hadn’t aged in the past quarter century. Four, he was still in Central City and as much as it had (massively) grown, the roads and streets and neighborhoods were still mostly the same. Same enough to navigate. Five, his childhood home was gone and his old phone number didn’t work. Neither did Mick’s. Payphones were also scarce, but it looked like everyone had small hand-phones like Star Trek communicators they were carrying around and using. His pocket had one, a little black thing that flipped open to reveal buttons, but he didn’t have anyone to call after trying those two numbers so he put it away.

Beyond the concrete facts, he had a bit more. His pockets were empty except the flippy telephone, cash, and weapons. He must’ve been on a job. The parka was good at covering the mega-gun on his hips but freaked out the cabby—that was one phone number that hadn’t changed in all this time—who asked him if he was going to a costume party. He didn’t get it, but was sure he was supposed to and nodded affirmative. He’d left the jacket and gun with Lisa when he snuck into a few stores to get her proper sized clothes and something less conspicuous for himself to wear, shoving the rest in a duffel he’d acquired with a five-finger discount. He wasn’t _expecting_ the doors to start beeping at him over that one, the security being a little high-tech for a dinky-ass nothing store, but he made like any good thief and booked it out of there before anyone could ask questions.

There was all that, and _then_ … the future.

He had to avoid hyperventilating whenever he thought about.

No hoverboards, but everything was lights and screens and fast and _pretty_. The cars were a helluva lot sleeker. The clothes were smarter, tighter, the shoes on ladies higher. Glass looked cleaner—and there was more of it—and there were a _lot_ more tall buildings downtown. And then there was the _tech_ , which seemed crazy once he started looking for it and noticing, and were there actually going to be police robots he had to worry about and was that why he had such a huge gun and—

“Leo?”

“Hm?” He glanced across the booth at his sister, reverie broken, probably for the better.

At least the Motorcar diner was still here. One place that didn’t look like it had changed except it was even more rundown than before. Even the waitress had the same name, and he was three quarters sure it was the same woman but it wouldn’t be polite to ask because if it was—she really hadn’t aged well.

“When c’n we go home?”

Lisa was coloring one of the kids’ menu sheets with the crayons they gave out. She was taking everything in stride and he was mostly sure it was because it hadn’t really hit her yet, or she didn’t really get it.

“Soon as I figure out what got us here, I’ll make ‘em reverse it, sis.”

“More coffee?”

“Hm? Oh, please.” He slid his mug over and let the waitress refill it. He hated the stuff but his dad told him that any real working stiff would drink coffee, and that’s what Len had to look like in a place like the Motorcar if he wanted to blend in. Apparently he wasn’t allowed to smoke indoors (the waitress had almost nailed him to the wall for trying) so coffee would have to do.

Especially with half a platoon of pigs sitting four tables down. Lenny sipped the black muck with a wince and turned his attention back to his sister.

“When will that be?”

“Soon, Lisey.”

“But I’m tired.”

He sighed. “I’ll find us a spot for the night, don’t worry.”

“”m not worried, I’m _tired_.”

He nodded. She was too old for midday naps but today had been a doozy so far and it was peaking toward evening. He wanted to find the library (was it still even there?) and check out some encyclopedias or newspapers, get some information, but it would have to wait until the next day. For now, they’d have to hit a motel for the night because it was too risky to check out any of his dad’s pals’ safe spots with Lisa in tow, and maybe too risky period.

“C’mon then, tired. I’ll pay up and we can hunker down tonight.”

“At home?”

“At a motel. You like motels.” She’d only stayed in one once with him and dad when they visited Opal, but she’d thought it was the most wicked thing. She might not remember it though, with her age being off from his. And that was about a year ago, or 25 years ago, give or take.

“B-but, but I won’t have my c-cabbage patch—”

His chest clenched. If Lisa cried, they might get more attention than he wanted to. After that cabby and some of the stares from earlier in the day when he still had the jacket on, he had a feeling that a low profile was a good idea.

“I’ll get you a cabbage patch doll.”

“B-but I want _my_ cabbage patch—she’s my favorite!”

She was. Lise carried that raggedy thing everywhere with her when she was allowed, or at least she did every time Len looked after her.

“Let’s go.”

He dropped some crumpled up cash on the table—and the cost of things in the future almost had him shitting bricks—and took her out of the booth, her tugging at his leg and on the verge of tears. He hoisted the duffel bag with the gun on his back and set out to find them shelter and a little girly doll.

 

[ … ]

 

“I’m telling you, this lady is _not_ a miracle worker!”

Barry almost had to laugh at the way Cisco was fuming, dodging Captain Singh’s heels around the precinct.

“Tell it to the three citizens I had in my office yesterday singing her praises.”

“She de-aged them!”

“ _Temporarily_ —and all three of them wish they could’ve had another go with her powers. A chance to relive some memories? Reconnect with themselves from five years ago? Some people wish it was permanent.”

Cisco was about to pull out his hair—“what about their jobs, their families!”

“Look Ramon, I’m not saying the task force shouldn’t stop her. I’m just saying, she’s not committing murder, and the effects wear off after what—a week? Is she really your top priority right now?”

“The effects are _variable_ depending on a lot of factors, we’re still trying to figure that out, thank you, and she’s a priority so long as she’s a metahuman using her powers on unsuspecting people in order to commit crimes.”

“ _Allegedly_ commit crimes.” Singh bit off and Barry edged closer to watch because the Captain looked ready to either cave in or boil over. “Because we don’t actually have any evidence of her being the one to take anything besides a bit of food and cash, and even that’s circumstantial. But you know what, you wanna’ catch her, put the Flash on it.”

Barry tried to suppress his reaction, the half smirk of pride and the frustration that he _was_ on it, but so far all he’d caught was this lady’s trail and a string of people who were either overjoyed or horrified at being de-aged, once they got their memories back. Lady Fountain of Youth (not Cisco’s best) had come to their attention about a few weeks ago after a bank full of people got de-aged and Cisco had been petitioning the Captain for police resources and information on the case ever since it was clear that they had no leads on it.

But… it was a little personal.

Lady Fountain had de-aged Caitlin back to 17 with the bank incident and the whole thing was incredibly awkward and weird for everyone during the eight days it had taken for it to wear off. Teenaged Caitlin was decidedly more shrill and also flirty. To Barry and Cisco’s surprise and immediate delight, Joe had born the worst the flirting. They almost laughed themselves silly except that it was so mortifying to watch their far-too-young friend unabashedly try to pick up a very awkward Joe.

There were simply things you didn’t want or need to know about your friends, really.

Thankfully, neither Cait or Joe were mentioning it ever since she’d resumed her normal age and her memories of 28. She didn’t know that Cisco had taped some of it as blackmail though, but Barry sure as hell wasn’t saying anything.

“So if the Flash _is_ on it…”

Singh actually stopped, sighed, and turned to face Cisco full on. Joe stepped up next to Barry and took a sip of his coffee. He was enjoying the show as much as Barry was, that little amused smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

“Then what do you need the CCPD’s help for?”

“Er, we _sort_ of need to talk to the _active_ victims and ask for a blood sample while they’re still de-aged?”

Caitlin was still mad they hadn’t got one off of her in her younger state, but they’d been more focused on making sure her teen self didn’t wreak total havoc of the lab, really. Drunk Caitlin was one thing, but teenage Caitlin with lab equipment? Terrifying.

“And the next time someone walks in here saying they’re the wrong age—or a loved one walks in here with someone in tow—I’ll give you a call. Now can you please get out of the middle of my bullpen so I can get some work done?”

Cisco looked sheepish but thanked the Captain and hurried over to Joe and Barry.

“So that went well.” Joe’s voice was infused with warmth despite the jab.

“ _Yeah_ … I vote that next time, we just—”

“Nuh uh, we agreed we’re gonna play by the rules more this year. New Year’s Resolution? ‘N the Captain agreed so we’re golden. Now scram, kids. Us old folks have some real work to do.”

Barry snorted. Ever since Caitlin hitting on him, Joe was going out of his way to remind everyone just how old he was. But he bade Joe and Cisco goodbye anyway and headed back up to his lab to get some work done.

Which didn’t last long. Less than an hour later, his phone was buzzing with a call from STAR lab.

“You busy?”

“Caitlin, what’s up?”

“Cisco’s social media metahuman-app just picked up a weird tip and you _might_ want to check it out, because we think someone might’ve stolen Captain Cold’s gun, or else made a knock-off.”

He sat up straighter, electricity already thrumming in his veins. “For real?”

“For real, dude!” Cisco’s voice came over the line and he must have _just_ got back to the lab, “it’s on youtube. Looks like some kid in the video footage, shooting cold at some mobsters!”

“Send me the location.”

 

[ … ]

 

The future was _not_ friendly.

So far, zero robot cops. That was good. But Lenny must’ve made some enemies in the past two decades. Some serious, angry enemies, with a lot of guns.

He’d packed up from the motel that morning, all the supplies and Lisa’s new doll in tow (it wasn’t a cabbage patch but after an initial rejection and no other options in sight, she’d given in and taken it) Breakfast was in order, and he stopped on the way at a little crap diner attached to his motel before setting out for the library. When in doubt, librarians would always have information. He’d just have to be sly about how he asked the right questions.

Only he never made it so far as the library. He barely made it three blocks from the dive and lit up his smoke before four guys were tailing him.

Running with a 6-year-old in tow was not easy, especially with what he was carting around. A quick stop to pull out the mega-gun in his bag—nestled right next to one he’d packed up from Lisa’s oversized outfit—had him realizing it didn’t shoot bullets or laser beams. No, it shot _ice_.

Which, in hindsight, explained the parka and the goggles. But it wasn’t helping him right now on the run, dodging bullets in zigzag formation, fast on his feet with Lisa in front of him. He shot the gun haphazard behind him, running into the nearest alleyway they could find. It wasn’t in a nice part of town, but Lenny had always felt safer on the wrong side of the tracks, like lady luck smiled on him there.

But luck wasn’t in his favor in the future. The alley was a dead end. He grabbed Lisa and scurried her behind a dumpster, heard the guys shouting behind him. No more than fifteen seconds now, if that.

“Stay there, be silent.”

“But—”

“Do it.”

She couldn’t get hurt. She couldn’t. He had to—he had to find _some way_ —

He looked around. A door. Anything. The only advantage he’d had was a head start and the fact that they’d all tripped over his ice, and now they were almost on top of him. He threw his shoulder into the nearest door, trying to ram it down. No good. Could he freeze it? Not enough time. Shit shit shit shit shit.

They had 6 seconds, tops. Less, 5, 4—shit he dodged for the duffel and rooted around for the glock—he knew how to aim that, what to do with it—

“There he is!”

Lenny stood up, glock in hand and aimed out before him. The mega-gun was in his left and he was three paces in front of the dumpster hiding Lisa. Maybe they wouldn’t see her. Maybe killing him would be enough.

He was gonna hurl if he made it outta this.

“Well well well, I almost didn’t believe my eyes, Snart.”

“Oh yeah?” his voice didn’t quaver. That was something. He aimed for a glare but the sweat near his eyes was starting to sting.

“Oh put that down, kid. You’re not gonna shoot.”

“You sure about that?” he dropped his voice down. Shouting made you look like a fool. A quiet voice, a cold voice, made you in control. This wasn’t like in juvie though, or with his dad’s pals. Lisa was just steps behind him and the stakes here weren’t just his own life.

“Pretty sure. Your old self woulda already offed the lot of us,” Goon #1—Baldy—pointed to his three pals—Ugly, Greasy, and Dental Work—smug and grinning. “But you’re not him. Not since that meta got a hold’a you.”

“Meta?” It slipped out, like the sweat dripping down the back of his neck. Did these guys know about why he was time travelled?

“That’s right, boy,” Greasy stepped forward, “but don’t worry about it, you won’t be living long enough for an explanation to matter.” He reached for his gun and Len pointed his own glock at the man. He had to kill them. It was the only way to protect Lisa and—

“Now hold on,” Baldy put a hand on Greasy’s arm. “Mr. Santini will want him alive if we can get him. Bigger bounty if they get’to torture him first.”

Mr. Santini as in _Don_ Santini? Oh who the hell had Lenny pissed off? Or more likely, his father. Lenny was too damn smart to piss off the Don of one of the Families.

“You really wanna’ give Captain Cold a chance to escape?”

The word jarred his thoughts, and he realized he could—should—be making his escape right now. The glock wouldn’t be enough, but the mega-gun, it shot in an arc, pure ice, and if he was fast enough—

His hands were sweaty, clammy. It would kill them. All four of them. _Good_. He started to raise it. He could do it. He could—

A red blur swept into the alley. Lenny felt jolted, stumbled back, heart crashing in his chest as he felt his guns ripped out of his hands—his only escape, Lisa, he had to—but the second he righted himself, he saw the thugs all knocked out and on the ground. Some guy in a tight red leather suit was tying their hands with some cable ties.

“Hey Cisco?” the guy said to… air? Len looked around and started edging back. The guy in the suit was looking at him. “I found the thief but it’s not a Cold wannabe… you’re not gonna believe this.”

“Leo?”

Lisa! Shit! Len dodged back fast and scooped her up in his arms. It was just one guy and maybe if he ran—

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down, Snart, no need to panic.”

The guy—the _blur_ —was right in front of him, hands raised like Lenny was some kind of spooked animal. It rankled, the frank _worry_ on his face.

“You know me?” He bit out. It was easier than asking the million other questions trying to push their way out of his mouth.

“I… oh boy. Yeah, uh. Why don’t I… don’t panic, okay?”

“You already said that.”

“Just… wait here.”

Len was about to tell him where to shove that idea, Lisa crying into his shoulder, but a second later she was out of his arms. He spun around, swallowing bile. Where had—that guy—what had— _no_ —

But he didn’t even have time to freak out. He barely made it back to his duffel bag before the blur of a man was back, and this time, Lenny was the one off his feet, world in dizzying technicolor like a kaleidoscope soaring past him for what must’ve been twenty seconds—time felt different, wrong and dilated somehow, hard to count—until he was tripped back onto his feet.

He promptly threw up.

 

[ … ]

 

Barry almost couldn’t believe his eyes when he cased the alleyway. It wasn’t that some kid (and Barry had had his money on the recently-escaped Axel Walker) stole Snart’s cold gun, it was Snart himself. He looked so different, so much _younger_ and softer, but the voice was a dead giveaway, as was the scared little girl with brown curls hiding behind a dumpster. If that wasn’t enough, the mafia’s extra hands calling him Captain Cold was more than telling.

Those guys had been easy to deal with. The de-aged Snart siblings? Barry had much less of an idea what do with them. Especially when they tried to bolt, and he remembered that the meta’s powers left no memories intact from the de-aging.

Whisking them to STAR Labs might not have been the brightest idea, but he couldn’t really take them to the CCPD, and obviously it wasn’t safe on the streets for them.

Snart throwing up all over the floor wasn’t ideal but Barry wasn’t about to fault him for it. Lisa was still sobbing but ran to her brother’s side and Barry sighed and speed-cleaned the floor, wrinkling his nose, rather than let it stink up the lab.

“Is that… who I think it is?” Caitlin’s eyes were wide as saucers.

Barry slowed down, floor clean now, and threw out an arm to introduce their guests.

“Cisco, Caitlin, I present to you a de-aged Leonard Snart. One guess who _they_ ran into recently.”

“De-aged?” Snart might look queasy still but he immediately perked up at that, standing up, hand still around Lisa’s shoulder. His eyes were darting everywhere at once but they stilled on Barry for that.

“Yeah, you, uh—”

“You really mean that _he’s_ Captain Cold—” Caitlin interrupted.

“Oh wow, I can see it. But if _that’s_ Snart then that’s…” Cisco pointed and tilted enough to glimpse little Lisa sniffling behind Snart’s legs. “ _LISA_?!”

Snart’s face dropped into something angrier and moved to shield her Lisa more. “How do you know my sister?”

“Whoa dude—me and Lisa are friends. Or, not friends, but y’know, she kidnapped me, I saved her life, we kind of have rapport.”

“ _Okay_ , Cisco,” Barry interjected, “we do not need to confuse anyone with things they can’t remember doing.”

Snart was staring at them all with some obvious apprehension.

“Leo,” Lisa’s high and childish voice whined from behind her brother. Barry catalogued the nickname with some surprise. “Where are we?”

“That’s a good question, Lisey.” He directed the statement at Barry.

“Oh boy.” Barry was in over his head.

 

[ … ]

 

“So you’re saying that someone with _superpowers_ made me lose almost 25 years?”

The long-haired guy named Cisco was the one explaining. Barry was the one in the red suit who hesitated before showing Lenny his face, and the pretty brunette was a _doctor_.

As far as Lenny was concerned, they were all either enemies or marks, he just had to figure out which.

“Yeah, uh, basically. That many years, huh? How old are you?” Cisco was sitting across from him. He told Lenny that hadn’t time travelled, but he _was_ in the future. There were people with superpowers thanks to an explosion with some dark matter—yes, the stuff on Star Trek, nice—and it now there were people with super speed (Lenny had looked at Barry for a long time trying to decide just _how_ fast he went) or the ability to shave down someone’s age.

“I’m twenty-thre—”

“Don’t lie, Snart.” Barry frowned at him.

Lenny frowned right back. Did he have a tell? And did this guy know it? He peered up at him, since Barry was still standing, pacing around until he’d stopped to look too hard at him.

“I’m 19.”

Cisco whistled through his teeth. “Snart the teen, oh man.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Uh—just uh…” Cisco looked to Barry for support. Lenny looked between them both.

“Just that our team has a complicated history with you, and meeting you at this age wasn’t really on the agenda.”

Team. History. He knew what that meant ( _well if you’re out—_ ), and his eyes flitted automatically toward the door but Barry was already rushing to say,

“But that doesn’t mean we’re not gonna help you. We are. What can you tell us about those guys chasing you?”

As if. “What can you tell me about my complicated history with your team?”

There was a staring contest for a minute. This Barry guy had greenish eyes and laser focus and Lenny felt like his inner thoughts were on display.

“Leo…” Lisa tugged on his arm and he broke away, dropping his anger as he caught the whine in her voice, humming in response. “’m thirsty.”

Time to see how accommodating his new pals were. He looked at Barry. Barry looked at Cisco. Cisco sighed. “Wanna come get a drink, Lisa?”

His arm was around her in an instant, her tight to his side. “She stays with me.”

Cisco had his hands up immediately, a half-step back. Good. “Okay okay, didn’t mean anything by it. I’ll grab a bottle of water from the break room.”

He left out the only exit. Lenny was pretty sure he couldn’t outrun Barry, but was itching to follow anyway.

“Look… Leonard,” Barry sat down across from him, mouth twisting around his name. “It’s not safe for you and your sister out there right now. We have answers here for what’s going on, so just sit tight. We’re not gonna hurt you guys.”

“… you took my guns.”

He had, and the other gun from the duffel bag, the weird looking one that had been with Lisa when they woke up.

Barry leaned back and looked annoyed, “yeah the cold gun and me don’t get along too well. And apparently you taught yourself how to build them so don’t even worry about losing it, you can always make another one.”

He could build that thing? That was… actually awesome. But, “why make me build it when you have it?”

Barry hesitated.

“So we aren’t friends.” He didn’t really say it like a question.

“We’re not enemies either. Not anymore.”

He was about to ask what the hell _that_ meant but the doctor came over. “Sorry to interrupt your little, uh, session, but before we get into _that_ mess,” she shot at look at Barry that Lenny really couldn’t decipher but didn’t like, “I want to ask you a few questions about your… condition. The more I know, the better I’ll be able to tell how long you and your sister will be like this.”

He just levelled her with a stare.

“Right. Well. You said you’re 19. How old is your sister?”

“I’m 6!” Lisa piped up beside him, and he smiled down at her.

The doctor looked at Lenny. “So you’re 13 years apart?”

He pursed his lips. He couldn’t see any _benefit_ to lying really. “Not exactly.”

“What does that mean?” she looked at Barry again, like looking at Lenny was too much for her to do in long periods of time. Barry just shook his head and said, “honestly, I didn’t think it would be easier to get _older_ you to talk than you at this age.”

He didn’t know how to take that so he settled on shifting in his seat. He could hear voices in the hall and his eyes flicked to it then back to the doctor. “Lisa should be 7 already if I’m 19. Our memories don’t quite add up right either. I remember more than she does.”

“You do?” Lisa and Caitlin asked at the same time, both with an owlish blink. He almost smiled, thinking they might get along when Lisa was all grown up.

“So this is Snart junior?” came a voice at the door, a black man walking in with Cisco, wearing a suit and definitely older than the rest of them. Lenny stood up immediately, putting himself in between this guy and Lisa. The man had a badge on his belt and a gun in a holster.

“Who’re you?” he spat.

“Whoa—just like the real thing.”

“It’s uncanny, right?” Barry replied to the man, completely breezy. He stepped in between Lenny and the newcomer. “Leonard, Lisa, this is Joe West. He’s my adoptive father.”

“He’s a _cop_.”

“Nothing gets passed this one,” the older man—the detective, had to be—snorted. “Don’t worry, Snart. Much as I’d _love_ to put you behind bars, even I ain’t thinkin’ of sending you at—how old did you say he was?”

Cisco’s response was immediate, “19.”

“Right, 19. Knowing _your_ enemies, you’d catch a blade in the first hour. So why don’t you calm down ‘n we can figure out what to do with you.”

His hackles raised. He could almost feel the shank against his skin from five years ago, taste the metal tang of blood in his mouth from when he was sure he was going to die in juvie. There was no was in _hell_ he was letting this guy lock him back up. “You’re not gonna ‘do’ anything to me.”

There was enough ice in his voice that it seemed to take Joe West by surprise, eyebrows up. But just then, Lisa curled around Lenny’s body to look up at his face, hands clinging to the back of his sweater, “are you okay Leo?”

It was like the man, this Joe West, hadn’t realized she was there until then. He blinked down at her and then his whole body language shifted entirely. His eyes widened and he dropped down into a squat, something awed and surprised and happy on his face.

Lenny hated it.

“Well hey there little miss Lisa. Cisco said you were little but he didn’t say just _how_ little.”

“I’m 6!” She called out from behind Lenny and he tried to hide her better with his arm.

“Don’t worry, Snart, I ain’t gonna’ hurt your sister.” He grabbed the water bottle from Cisco and rolled it across the room to stop right at Lenny’s feet.

He glared at it, then at the man. “Don’t even look at her.”

“I got a daughter of my own, you know. Still remember when she was as little’s this. So don’t worry, kid, we all know how much your sister means to you, round here.” He was still in a crouch squat, peering up at Lenny like he, too, could look right through him.

“You all seem to know a lot about me.”

“More than we’d like to, some days.” Cisco was quick with his comebacks, but he sauntered across the room and onto a chair at one of the tables with crystal clear computer screens and it was like everyone else the room followed his lead, tension dropping. Joe West stood back up and Caitlin tiptoed over behind Barry, all of them at once. Barry reached down and picked up the water bottle, handing it to Lenny before he could even decide if he should move.

“Let Caitlin take a blood sample from you and your sister, answer her questions, and we’ll answer some of yours.”

 

[ … ]

 

Lisa ended up crying when Caitlin took her blood, just a little but she was always scared of needles. The day’s excitement was really catching up to her and they’d found a blanket for her to curl up and nap on in a room next to the main one he was in, through glass so he could still keep an eye on her.

The doctor gave him a ten minute lecture when he tried to pull out a smoke. Was he allowed to smoke _anywhere_ in the future?

“Outside.”

“You smoke?” That was Cisco.

“Who doesn’t?” He put away the cig in frustration. He stole the pack fair and square and still hadn’t had a chance to have a full one.

“Huh.”

West laughed, “quit while you’re young. Trust me on that.”

Barry looked at him like he was about to ask but the doctor cut him off with more questions about Lenny’s memory and health. He asked her when he’d be back to normal and she said she didn’t know. He wasn’t impressed.

“It’s just that no one else has been _near_ this affected, yet. The average age drop has been 5 years. The _most_ we’ve seen is 11 so far… You and your sister must’ve really spooked her.”

‘Her’ – the woman with superpowers who’d done this to him. There had been signs of a struggle where he’d woken up…

“Do you need her alive to fix this?”

“Alive? Well no one is trying to _kill_ her,” she seemed affronted. “But no, this will wear off. We just don’t know—it could be weeks, or… months.”

He felt a jolt at that. Months. _Dozens_ of days. Maybe over a hundred. Could he survive a hundred days in the future and protect Lisa? Where was he going to stay?

“Where were you, when you woke up, Snart?” Barry asked, and Lenny tried to shove down the need for a _plan_ , a backup strategy, an _out_ so that he could answer.

“Does it matter?”

“It might help us track down the meta and fix this faster.”

He nodded. “It was in East Glen, an old office building attached to a warehouse. Lisa was across the room from me.”

“You weren’t next to her?” The doctor interjected.

“Does that matter?”

“That will be why she’s slightly younger—she must have been closer to the energy wave that comes off Lady Fountain—I mean, the person who did this to you. We name all the metahumans we encounter.”

“You mean like ‘Captain Cold’?” It was out of his mouth before he could stop it, chest clenched. Was _he_ a ‘metahuman’ in the future too?

“No—well yes, Cisco gave you that alias, but not because you have powers.” she winced and glanced at her companions before looking back at him apologetically.

“My fancy future gun.”

“ _My_ fancy future gun, thank you,” Cisco interjected. “You just stole it.”

Finally, something that actually sounded like him. He smirked. “Wicked.”

He didn’t expect West to burst into a laugh and clap his hand over his mouth to stifle it.

“What’s so funny?”

Even the others looked confused.

“Nothing—just—I haven’t heard anyone say ‘wicked’ like that in a decade.”

Lenny had nothing to say to that. Who cared if he talked funny? But the others were smiling. Cisco was practically bursting.

“Oh man, he’s gonna get _all my movie references_!”

“Can you please _focus_?” Lenny spat out, tired and hungry and tense. “I still don’t know how the hell any of you know me or what I’m doing here. If this’ll just wear off then I don’t see why I’m not already out of here with Lisa.”

He was a little surprised that instead of looking at the detective, everyone else turned to Barry for answers. He’d been pretty quiet the whole time, leaning against a glass wall now, but there was something about him that Lenny couldn’t place. He couldn’t tell if it was authority or delinquency, power or a problem-maker. Something about him made Lenny think he must be dangerous.

“What?” Barry blinked, looking confused, pushing himself off the wall and pointing to himself with a bit of a splutter. It completely ruined the stoic image he’d had going. Maybe that was the point. “I don’t know what we should do with him. That’s why I brought him here!”

“Well he can’t stay _here_ , Barry.” Caitlin said it like it should be obvious. Lenny was reminded that he barely knew where ‘here’ was. Cisco had said it was a huge but defunct facility for that dark-matter machine that was like the one in Switzerland but cooler.

“Why not? Harry did, and Jesse.”

“Yeah dude, but they hadn’t tried to kill us.” Cisco said it like it was totally natural, but Lenny stilled.

That wasn’t good news.

Caitlin kept talking, almost over Cisco, like his comment wasn’t cause for discussion at all, “not to mention that we have no idea what an unchecked teenager and child could get up to in this lab on their own. Harry was from another dimension, _not_ the past. Snart doesn’t even remember the _internet_.”

What was—oh. That was the point.

“Okay, so they’ll stay with us.”

“’Scuse me?” Joe looked at Barry, deadpan. “Did you just invite Leonard Snart and his little sister to come live at _my_ house?”

Barry lived with him? Wasn’t he all… twenty-something?

“I—we—well if they can’t stay at the lab, it’s not like we can just drop them off with social services.”

“Well they sure aren’t staying with me.” Caitlin shook her hands, head, and almost hold body at the prospect, the picture of ‘no’.

“Yeah dibs out, sorry man.”

These people were gonna give Lenny a migraine. “Don’t worry about it. I can handle myself.” He said it slow and with a drawl, the kind that he knew made people listen, confident and breezy.

Except that Barry was now just looking at him like he’d said something painful.

“What?” he snapped.

“You were almost dead in that alleyway.”

“I would’ve taken care of it.”

“I know.” He looked like he did know. Like he knew Len would’ve taken the shot. He wasn’t sure what do with that knowledge, or the way that Barry shifted so fluidly from awkward and nonplussed to dangerous and more still, taking a step toward Lenny. “That’s another reason I can’t let you wander around Central City unchecked. There’s bound to be collateral damage.”

“Hey Barr, can I talk to you?” Joe West asked, and Lenny deflated a little from his tense stance when Barry nodded and the two men stepped out into the hall.

Cisco whistled and slipped over to one of the computer screens while Caitlin hesitated for a second before approaching Lenny.

“Hi, um, Leonard.”

“Hm?”

“This might not be of much help but I actually _do_ know a bit of what you’re going through,” she wrung her hands, “because I went through the same thing a few weeks ago. I was the one who lost eleven years of my age and it was… really embarrassing mostly.” Her cheeks pinked like it genuinely was. “But the worst part at the start was not knowing all these people who seemed to know me. None of my old friends or family were still around and I felt… very lost.”

He didn’t respond, glancing down at his fingers, eyes darting back to her when he could sneak a glance.

“I just wanted to say… I understand. We all do. So everyone here, even if it doesn’t seem like it, we’re going to do our best to help you.”

“Why?” he couldn’t help it, he had to ask. She seemed confused by the question.

“Um, I don’t know, it’s just… what we do?”

“Didn’t Cisco say I tried to kill one of you?”

“Sort of,” her lips dragged down, “all of us? Mostly Barry. Well, you kidnapped me, then Cisco later, and uh, oh I’m getting ahead of myself.”

He knew his eyes must be wide as saucers.

“But! But you’re not trying to kill us now. That’s all behind us. Okay?”

“No, this is insane.” He glanced at Lisa in the med bay then to the hall. Cisco wasn’t that big and the doctor wouldn’t be an issue. Definitely do-able. He took a step but the doctor moved into his path.

“Snart—don’t. _Don’t_. Just—you and Barry, you have some… understanding. Agreements. It’s all back and forth and weird and I don’t really get it but you _trust_ one another, or understand one another, and he’s not going to let you run around like this and get yourself killed or he’d feel awful about it. He just wants to do you a favor, so let him.”

Something about that felt like ice in Len’s veins. Agreements. Favors. Deals. “I’ll go tell him where to shove his favors.”

He stalked toward the door. Lisa was safe—these two were harmless, even a mouse would be able to figure that out—and he’d have a better time getting Barry and his father to back down if he didn’t remind them of the 6-year-old he’d be carting around the city.

Outside the room he was in, the hallway was arched as if the building was some weird circle, disorienting as hell as he tried to figure out where to go, catching voices down one side of the hall and heading toward them. They got sharper the closer he got, louder words carrying.

“…a bad idea ‘n I don’t…”

“…learn… my powers or…”

Len slowed down.

“… just _invite_ a dangerous criminal—”

“But he’s not…anymore—at Christmas he showed he has _honor_ and he’s not a danger _to_ us—”

He took a few more silent steps and stopped. They must be just around the bend.

“I know, I _know_ , son, my issue really isn’t ‘is Snart gonna wake up one morning and shoot down the whole house’, I promise.”

“Then what _is_ it?”

“It’s _you_ Barry! Don’t you see how far you go for this guy, _every time_. ‘N I know you have a soft spot for Snart—”

“It’s not a soft spot—”

“Well whatever it is—you really think it’s a good idea to live with him for a month? It’s not just what he’ll learn about your powers, it’s what you’ll learn about _him_.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, Barr, that your little crush on—”

“It’s not a crush, Joe, what even—”

“I know what you look like when you have a crush, Barry—making exceptions for him, thinking his smarmy attitude is funny, deleting his _police_ _records with no question_. Hell, you went all the way to Iron Heights just to see him. It only got worse when he showed up at Christmas and proved your little honor theory about him right.”

There was a sighing sound but Lenny could barely hear it over his beating heart. Barry had a _crush_ on him? Shouldn’t he be almost 43 in 2016? And did that make Barry a—

His father’s voice ran out in his head, ‘ _nothing worse ‘n a fag, son. Dropping like flies ‘n serves ‘em right._ ’

He shivered, but Barry was talking again. “Okay, _whatever_ the thing between me and Snart is, it’s not relevant here. Because I mean it, Joe. Even _if_ you think it’s a bad idea for my psyche and even _if_ Snart learns too much about me or my powers or whatever, it’s _still_ not safe for him out there. He’s got the mob after him and who knows how Mardon or even Axel Walker would take it, coming across him in this state.”

This time he heard another sigh, one that was definitely West. “’N Lisa too. We could give Snart a bus ticket out of town for a few weeks if he was on his own, but we can’t just leave a little girl out there without a roof over her head, alone.”

She wouldn’t be alone, she’d be with him. Lenny almost opened his mouth to step forward and say that, but Barry was faster.

“It’s not like he’d ever leave her side if we suggested it, either. Cisco said he practically raised her the first time around.”

Lenny fell back. He was missing integral pieces of the puzzle and his heart and stomach and brain were all warring for the best course of action. It was too much to think around a plan and he just…

Didn’t know what to do. He hated it.

“You know he’s gonna be your responsibility.”

“I know.”

That jolted him. Barry’s responsibility? His fists balled at his sides.

“And you’re the one with extra cash—you’re paying for the grocery bills this month.”

“And whatever else they need, Joe, don’t even worry about it.”

He could hear them start to move and _shit_ he wouldn’t be able to run without them catching him. Not that he could outrun a guy with superspeed, and where would he go, with Lisa back in that med room, asleep?

“You really sure about this, Barry?”

“I really—ahh, Snart. Hey. Um.” They were in the middle of the hall and Lenny was still standing there like a goddamn idiot. No wonder his father called him that so often.

“I don’t need _favors_.”

He’d tried to make it sound cold and tough but Barry just went from looking embarrassed to almost sad.

“What? That much pity for me?”

“No—no it’s just… the last time you told me you didn’t want my help… you really needed it.”

“You don’t have to treat me with the kiddy gloves. I’m 19, not 9.”

West exchanged a look with Barry and kept walking down the hall, past them. Barry gave Lenny a long look, holding his gaze.

“You really think you don’t need our help?”

“I can handle it.”

“Well the last time you told me you didn’t need saving, your sister had a bomb in her head. So excuse me if I don’t believe you this time either.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kind of insecure about this one, in part because I'm used to having these sort of intense side plots in my multi-chaptered works and this one... doesn't have that. The sideplot stuff is all very minor, though it'll come up, but this is in many ways a character piece with romance? Which makes me a little less sure of the pacing than normal. I hope it works alright. 
> 
> It's also really interesting to try and wrap my head around young!Len and all the ways he'd react to things, balancing his "grew up way too fast" side with him being younger and more vulnerable. The last he remembers is August 1992, for the record. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys like it :) Comments are love <3


	2. Skinny Jeans are in Style

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Possible squick/trigger** : misunderstandings leading to attempted sex work, and panic attacks

 

The drive back to Joe’s was awkward as hell.

Snart had a smoke outside while Joe brought the car around and Barry actually rode along to make sure no one did anything stupid. He was in the front seat with the Snarts in the back. They stopped for some Big Belly Burger on the way home and Snart had tried to pay for himself and Lisa. Barry just brushed it aside and swiped his card and Snart looked personally offended by it.

But that look was nothing compared to the look from back at the lab when he’d told him that Lewis had put a bomb in Lisa. Or that Lenny had been the one to kill his father.

“Guess that answers _that_ question.” He’d looked shaken and Barry didn’t know what to say, really. The Snart that he knew _hated_ his father. At this age though? Obviously was a little more ambivalent about it all.

Barry almost regretted giving him the (abridged) story of what happened with Lewis, except Snart had stopped complaining about coming to live with them, after that. Actually, he’d mostly clammed up entirely, tight-lipped. Barry couldn’t really blame him. For all Snart didn’t want to be treated with kiddy gloves or whatever, he sort of _was_ still a kid.

Except.

The image swam up to the surface of his mind, Snart in that alleyway, gun raised, cold gun just coming up, eyes and lips in the same curl of hatred as Barry had seen right before he’d killed Lewis. Almost twenty five years different but nothing about the expression had changed. A vision of who he’d become… or who he already was, maybe. Maybe less sure of himself, more obvious feelings than he’d have down the line, but even if he wasn’t as cold yet, he was still ready to kill. Maybe already a killer.

Barry tucked those thoughts away and invited them into the house. Wally greeted them, made a comment about “still can’t believe this is my new normal” and then made himself scarce, heading out to study with friends. Barry was grateful that he read the room (or maybe just read Snart’s face) smart enough to bail fast.

Especially because there was a slight snag. That snag being that Joe’s house had a master bedroom, the attic room (Wally’s), Iris’s old room (they were giving it to Lisa), and Barry’s room. They had an extra cot, but the decision was whether to put it in Lisa’s room or to put it in Barry’s. On the one hand, both Snarts might feel better sharing a room. On the other, he didn’t actually trust Snart not to sneak out the window in the middle of the night with Lisa in tow, never to be seen again.

The issue was resolved when Lisa ran into Iris’s room, declared it looked like a perfect princess room, spun around, then pushed Barry and Leonard out and said no boys allowed.

“So… cot in my room?”

Joe had just snorted like the whole thing was funny. Snart was giving him a look he didn’t have the energy to decipher. It had been a long day. It wasn’t over yet, but it had been long.

Barry let Snart settle in to his room—Joe would keep an eye on things—and rushed off to visit the warehouse they’d met Lady Fountain in. The place was soaked, definitely melted ice, and had the residue from Lisa’s gun in a few places. He frowned. No body. No clue as to what Lady Fountain had been doing there. Still no leads. As best as they could figure, she was using her powers to disorient people and steal cash and soluble assets, quick and dirty stuff. The most she’d hit so far was five people at a time, which was how they first found out about her, but that had been six weeks ago and another city over. This empty office building really didn’t look like a place that had anything to steal.

He relayed the information and then stayed out a little longer, just running. It wasn’t that he was _avoiding_ home per se. It’s just that he really didn’t know what the hell to do or say with a de-aged and confused Leonard Snart in his room. How to comfort him and tell him it was going to be okay without making it weird between them when he grew back up, how to keep his distance when the other man clearly needed a hug.

Maybe Joe was right. Not about the crush, or whatever this weird understanding he and Snart had was, but just that this was all a bit impulsive and he wasn’t really prepared for it. Not that he’d tell Joe that.

With a sigh, he turned toward home.

 

[ … ]

 

Lenny was exhausted that night but could barely sleep. He was in a cot in a stranger’s room, staring at the ceiling and willing (forcing) himself not to get up and bolt out. He had nowhere to go. Nowhere safe, not with Lisa. If one of the Families really did have it out for him, no safehouse or spot would be safe enough, not by his estimation, not for her. And with his father dead—

He’d really done it. He’d really—

His hands kept shaking. He kept having to push down the urge to cry. He couldn’t. Not here. Not where someone could see. Barry Allen was less than five feet away from him and snoring softly but it was still possible he could wake up, could see, could use it against Lenny—

He took deep breaths and counted. When he got to three minutes, his heartrate had slowed down some. He rang his fingers along the sheets on his cot for sensation, considering the thread count, something (anything) to focus on.

There were too many facts inside of his brain. Joe had told him about the future for a few minutes after Barry had disappeared in a trail of superpowered lightning. Joe said things that made sense. Explained how Central had changed, developed. Explained that computers developed to make everything easier, and that everyone shared information on them. The little phones everyone carried were actually more like little computers with phones built in, and satellites let them all connect over an internet.

It made some measure of sense, the way Joe explained it. The way Wally chimed in, when he came home, when he said that metahumans were still mind-blowing and most people hadn’t gotten used to them at all. It made him feel less crazy. Wally shared a story of a giant man-shark busting down their front entry and Lenny knew he had to be lying but Joe said it was real when he tried to call bullshit.

Lisa drew a picture of a shark, markers out the whole time they talked—Lenny was so glad that West owned crayons and markers and more (“I did raise two kids here”)—and fell asleep on his arm after protesting she wasn’t tired.

He wished he could have shared her room. It would let him look out for her. But she had been excited about having her own ‘princess’ room with the pink nightlight Joe had put in there for her. He was worried she wouldn’t be able to sleep alone, that she should feel confused and scared like him, and he thought she might, but she’d said she was gonna be brave for him and he didn’t know what to say to her to let her know she didn’t have to be. Snarts always had to be.

So he didn’t know how to refuse Barry dragging him and the cot down the hall. Well, that wasn’t strictly true. He could have refused. But he didn’t know what kind of man Barry was, or what he wanted from him. That night, it didn’t seem like anything, the way he passed out, but… Lenny wasn’t stupid. No one offered this much for free. Inviting them to his home, the bills he’d promised West to pay, sharing his room. Saving Lisa’s life when their father had a bomb in her—

Lenny shivered, laying in the dark.

That wasn’t worth thinking about. Hell, he couldn’t even remember it. But he didn’t doubt that he owed Barry, and owed him a _lot_ , if it was true. And he didn’t know what kind of a debt a man like Barry might try to collect. If Lenny really had tried to kill him, had kidnapped his friends (he still needed those stories. Did he have a reason? What was his angle? He hadn’t asked West)… if he’d done that, was it possible this was all an elaborate revenge?

He told himself it was too much for that. He took it that Barry didn’t like killing people, would blame himself it Lenny and Lisa died. So he had a conscience. But no one was _that_ selfless. He had to have an ulterior motive. If not revenge… weakness? Did he _want_ to see Lenny young and confused, incapable and dependent? Would he use it against him later?

It wasn’t something he could fix right now, no better option. He knew all about sticking with the devil you knew. But it kept him up half the night, just the same.

 

[ … ]

 

Barry woke in the morning and had to take a second to remember what yesterday had brought up, and why there was an extra person in his room.

Right. Snart. That was… going to be weird as well, really. Barry had slipped in the night before around bedtime, showered and dropped into bed before Snart could pester him with questions. Not that it looked like he was going to, but Barry really needed to figure out how to explain their history without freaking out the younger man too much. Because “you tried to murder me and most of my pals at least ones and killed two people in front of me not to mention betrayed me… and now we’re mostly cool with each other” really wasn’t going to cut it.

Thankfully, it was a Sunday. He sat up in his bed and ran his fingers through his hair and as soon as he did, Snart rolled over and stared at him.

It really _was_ uncanny. He looked so much the same but still different. Hair darker and a bit longer, almost starting to curl at the ends, eyes bluer, skin a little darker even, like he got out into the sun more. But the stare was the same, and the tones of voice he used, especially the way he would drop into a drawl. But his normal voice had less of an edge to it, more worry.

“Morning…”

“Good morning, Barry.”

Yep, there it was, that drawl.

“How’re you feeling, with uh, everything? Yesterday was kind of intense.”

“I’m peachy.”

Barry frowned. “You know you can talk to me, right? If this is overwhelming? Did anyone tell you Caitlin went through something similar? She cried for over an hour the first day and—”

“I _said_ I’m fine.” His glare had a lot more pout to it at this age but it was still frigid as ever.

“Yeah sure, I’m just, I’m here, y’know.”

“ _Thanks_.”

“Right.”

“I guess we should… go down for breakfast?”

“I’m gonna check on Lisa.”

“’Kay.”

One conversation down, hundreds more to go, probably. Barry sighed.

 

[ … ]

 

He slipped into Lisa’s room where she was still asleep, sunlight streaming in. It was definitely not a kid’s room, too bland and muted, but the single bed in the corner was more than big enough for Lise, who looked like a little angel with her brown curls all thrown around her head.

He sat on the edge of the bed and felt winded, for a second. Last night she had teared up before bedtime and Joe had plugged in a pink nightlight left over from his daughter’s—Iris, Lenny had yet to meet her—own younger days.

He really didn’t know how to protect her here, in this time. Barry and his friends took the only weapons he’d had, his father was dead (dead because—), he’d heard no mention of his only real friend (Mick, was he even still alive in the future?), and the Families and god knew who else were after him. He had a criminal alias and that _had_ to have some recognition attached to it, and some enemies.

He wished he could work those future computers Joe told him about. He wished he knew how to dress and what to say to blend in. Joe had laughed four times the night before about it. Apparently no one really said ‘411’ anymore except Cisco, who said everything from watching too many old school movies. Sticking out like a sore thumb really wasn’t gonna do him any favors though.

He sighed. There was nothing he could do about it except keep quiet and observe, and try to figure out what these people wanted from him. He pulled himself out of his thoughts and shook Lisa’s shoulder to wake her up.

“Mm, Leo?”

“Morning, princess. And didn’t I tell you to stop calling me that?”

She sat up with a stretch and a yawn. “You did?”

Oh right, she might not remember that either.

“Call me Lenny now, like my friend Mick does.” Lisa was the only one allowed to call him Leo if he had a say in it, and he’d still rather she picked up his other nickname.

“Dad calls you Leo.”

“He does.” And it made his stomach bunch up. It was always with an ‘I’m proud of you, Leo.’

Her lips turned down. “ _Lenny_ … Lenny I miss home.”

He sighed, “me too, sis.”

“When c’n we go home?”

“Soon, hopefully.” Except that wasn’t really true, was it? Because it’s not like they’d be going back in time to their old home, not the way that doctor told it. They’d just age back up and suddenly remember the past two decades.

“I miss dad.”

He closed his eyes and tried to push down all the mess that swelled up. Their dad, who’d never gone after Lisa yet. Not yet. Not—not so long as Lenny could put himself in the way of the old man’s anger but—a _bomb_. In her _neck_. He hated that he could actually believe it. He didn’t want to believe it. His dad was a drunk maybe, got a little too angry, but he was toughening Lenny up for a tough world (that’s not what you thought when you landed in juvie. That’s not what—)

“Dad’s not here, Lisa.”

“Can’t we go find him?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I said so.” He forced himself not to shout, just barely, hands hurting they were clenched so tight. Lisa got the message anyway, shying away from the anger in his voice.

“Leo…?”

“It’s… fine, Lise, but dad’s not around. He’s,” he titled his head, a thought coming to mind, “in jail.”

“Only bad people go to jail.”

“Dad did something bad.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

He waited. She kicked her feet, pouting a little, toes not even brushing the ground off the side of the bed.

“Let’s go find out what breakfast tastes like in the future, hm?”

 

[ … ]

 

Toasters were mostly the same. Ovens were fancier. The Wests had a real nice blender that Joe used to make a smoothie after coming in from a run while Barry flipped eggs and bacon for the rest of them. Lenny eyed the sleek grey box with buttons with some curiosity until Wally caught him and laughed.

“It’s a microwave, dude.”

“I know that.” He did, now that Wally pointed it out, even if his house never owned one. “They just look different now. Smaller.”

“Y’all have color tv, right?”

“I came from 1992, not 1952.”

“Yeah yeah.” Wally laughed, but so did Barry, dropping a pile of food onto a plate.

“Pancakes are keeping warm in the oven.”

“Thanks.” He made a plate for Lisa first and forced himself to sip the coffee he’d said yes to, waiting for his eggs to finish before sitting down at the table.

“What’s on your docket for today, Captain?” Wally grinned and Lenny was getting the impression he found the whole de-aging thing funny. He frowned.

“We’re gonna swing by the lab,” Barry came and sat down with his own plate stacked full of food and a rectangular block bar he dropped onto it. Lenny eyed the brick of food, wondering if it was a future thing too. It made him think of space-rations or something.

“With the doctor lady?” Lisa piped up.

“Yep, with Doctor Caitlin. We’re gonna see if she knows how long you two will be stuck like this.”

“Can she speed up the process?” he enquired, forcing down another gulp of coffee and planning to have another cigarette on the porch before they headed out.

“That’s the hope.”

 

[ … ]

 

The hope didn’t pan out.

Barry drove the siblings over to the lab (Joe let him borrow the SUV) and Caitlin’s blood analysis had helped her and Cisco piece together that Lady Fountain’s powers dealt with a localized temporal displacement field that interacted with organic matter… but what that meant in English was that they really weren’t any further ahead yet.

She took another blood sample from Snart so that she could see if anything about it had changed in the past day, but said not to hold out too much hope.

So Barry announced it was time to go shopping. They all deserved a little shopping therapy, as far as he was concerned. Lisa seemed on board, squealing in delight and asking if she could have another doll—“yeah, of course”—but Snart had looked nervous and tense before he got his expressions under control.

Barry wanted to ask, but Lisa was captivating his attention and hanging on his arm and he led them out of the lab. Cisco came along because he loved shopping and needed lunch, and Caitlin stayed behind citing a desire to analyze Snart’s blood.

“You all keep calling me by my last name.”

Cisco and Lisa were a few paces ahead, Lisa pestering Cisco with questions about the future. She was a chatty one, once she opened up.

“Yeah, uh… yeah. Should we call you Leonard?”

“Lenny.”

“Le—” Barry laughed, just a little but it came out.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s just, I was remembering the last time I tried to call you thought. I honestly thought you were about to shoot me. But, uh, Lenny it is.”

They made it to the parking garage and Lisa took off running toward the SUV.

“She’s got a lot of energy.”

“She’s a kid,” Sna— _Lenny_ —said as if it should be obvious.

“Yeah, I guess I’m just—you’re still _you_. She’s… when she grows up, she’s really different.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t worry about it.” It would feel weird explaining to Snart that the little girl bouncing on her heels next to the car would grow up to be a sneaky seductress with a thing for man standing next to her unlocking the door and helping her hop up into the back seat.

He was about to walk over to the car but Sn—Lenny put a hand on his arm. It actually startled him, and he couldn’t figure out why for a second.

“Leonard?”

Oh. The man had never touched him, had he? He dropped his hand from Barry’s arm fast enough.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Do… what?”

“Buy us things. Make us breakfast. You—I know you want to put a roof over our heads. But I have money. I can cook. You—”

“Hey, whoa, it’s cool. I have money—”

“So do I.”

“Dude you can’t have enough to cover you and Lisa for a whole month or whatever it’s gonna be—”

“I can get more.”

Barry frowned, “you’re not allowed to steal or hold up a bank, Snart.”

The other man’s eyes narrowed. “I won’t get—”

“Caught? Yeah, you will. Things are different than they were in 92, okay? And I don’t care how much you enjoy stealing, it’s not gonna happen while you’re living under Joe’s roof.”

Snart looked away, almost pouting, staring at the SUV for a moment. Cisco was in the front seat and clearly reading something on his phone, probably looking up stuff for Lisa.

Barry stepped closer to him, voice quieter, “look, Lenny, I know you hate to owe people, but we can deal with that later, alright? Right now, you and Lisa need more than two days’ worth of clothes and what, fifty bucks in your pocket?”

“Deal with it later?”

“Yeah, whatever, we’ll work something out so you don’t feel like you’re in my debt.” He knew Snart hated that, and he might feel safer with this if he thought he could even their score somehow. Barry was thinking Snart probably owed him a favor or three when this was all over anyway, since that was how they did things now, a tentative tit for tat.

“Right.” Snart looked at him, long and tense, and then moved toward the car. Barry shook his head and followed.

 

[ … ]

 

“You kids buy the whole damn mall or…?”

Barry laughed at Joe’s expression when they walked in, but Lenny frowned. Barry had assured him no less than three times to relax, that it was okay, the prices weren’t even that bad (they weren’t just bad, they were brutal), and it wasn’t a problem that Lisa wanted to buy the whole damn store, and yes she could get that toy, and he should try on these jeans and that sweater (that Barry seemed to know all the clothes he was drawn to wasn’t helping) and if Lisa wanted the bright yellow and purple Disney comforter for her bed, that was okay too.

The prices he was racking up were too much. Lenny was sure he wasn’t just having a spazz when he pulled Barry aside and said the $200 jeans were too much. But Barry shrugged it off, “they’re nice, they suit you, don’t worry about it.”

He was worried about it. They never bought brand name things. Half his clothes had holes somewhere and most were from the secondhand store. The only time he’d seen anyone spend that on clothes outside the Families was his father on a new nice leather jacket. Brand name shit just wasn’t worth it.

But Lisa was smiling and hadn’t had this much fun in as long as Lenny could remember and he couldn’t convince himself to stop her from picking things out. Cisco had taken her down a toy aisle in Walmart and made her pick out only three things because at least one of them had some version of restraint. Cisco was okay. He seemed honest. Lisa liked him.

Barry was… Lenny looked at him, making room in his dresser and closet for Lenny’s new clothes, giving him two drawers. Barry was powerful and pretty and probably (definitely?) a homo and invited them to stay and spent way too much money on clothes (tight, fitted, form-complimenting clothes) and things for someone that had maybe tried to kill him before, smiling it off and saying they could ‘work something out’ so that Lenny didn’t feel like he owed him.

He knew what that meant.

He felt a little sick about it, but he’d do whatever he had to do to keep Lisa safe and smiling. If the West house was the safest spot for her this month, Lenny could deal with Barry Allen and whatever he was going to want from him at night.

Joe called them downstairs to help out with supper and Barry smiled at him. “Wear something new?”

Lenny swallowed. He could do this. If Barry wanted him to dress up in the clothes he’d bought Lenny… whatever. It didn’t mean he was any of the things his dad’s friends sometimes joked about. Not “too skinny ‘n pretty for his own good,” ( _better keep him away from New York, you know how it is up there_ ), not “gonna grow up to be a fag if you don’t keep an eye on him” ( _mouth like that and he’s gonna give a man the wrong idea_ ).

He wasn’t any of the things Vinnie Santini liked to call him when he was the only one on a job small enough to sneak into a duct or the only one pretty enough to look smart in a suit with all the yuppies to get intel for his dad’s next heist.

He’d do what he had to to survive and ignore what anyone said about him. It didn’t mean anything anyway.

“Sure, I’ll change.”

“Cool.” Barry closed the door as he headed down the stairs and Lenny was grateful for that at least. He put on a pair of the ‘skinny’ jeans and a sweater over his tee because he couldn’t help it. He felt too on display in the tee, and the scars on his arms weren’t so bad but it still made him shy. Barry didn’t need to see his arms, he’d complimented the sweater anyway.

Definitely gay. No straight shooter liked to shop that much or clothes that tight.

When he came down for dinner, a young woman was there and her smile made Lenny’s heart beat just a little faster. She was an absolute knock-out.

“I’m Iris, and _you_ are Leonard Snart,” she held out her hand to shake and he took it. He never had any clue how to talk to girls, especially pretty ones. They went into three mental categories: friends, knock-outs, and marks. Most every girl was a mark in some way, and that made it all easier. He didn’t really have any girl friends, but he’d had a few back when he started out high school that weren’t so bad.

But knock-outs? Just left him tripping over his tongue and wishing the floor would swallow him.

“Uh.”

She laughed, “you’re still holding my hand.”

He snatched it back, ears burning. She seemed to think this was hilarious and he was sure he was being made fun of.

“I cannot believe _you_ were this adorable as a teenager.”

“I’m an adult—I’m nineteen.”

The patronizing look she gave him made him scowl.

“Now there’s the Cold I know.”

“If you’re done teasing Snart, mind setting the table, Iris?” West was his savior, although Lenny almost wished he had more time to talk to her. She moved like air, slipping over to the table while Wally came into the room off the couch. That’s where Lisa was, watching some kids show on the TV. And Barry was…

“Hey.”

Right there. Great.

“Hi.”

“I see you met Iris.”

“Yeah.”

“She’s something, huh?”

Lenny shot him a look. Was that question a trap, or…? “I need a smoke.”

Barry rolled his eyes and dragged him into the kitchen. “After supper. Here, help me carry the food.”

 

[ … ]

 

Lenny’s reaction to Iris was nothing short of hilarious. Iris was giggling about it to Barry when she pulled him aside for a second.

“Oh my _god_ ,” she was mostly whispering, helping him clear up the dishes after the meal.

“Told you.”

“He’s so—wow. And Lisa, she’s so _tiny_.”

He laughed. It was true. Lisa was a bobbing little head of curls following her brother around in the cutest way. He leaned against the counter. “It’s gonna be interesting around here for a bit.”

“Uh _huh_. And he’s gonna remember all of it?”

“Yeah, her too.”

“That’ll be the weirdest part.”

He nodded, glancing toward the living room where the Snart siblings were. “You think this is weird?”

She snorted, “nah, Barr. Totally normal to invite your de-aged nemesis to crash in your room.”

“Right.”

“You gonna be okay?”

“Okay?”

“With your crush?”

“My—what is it with you and your dad? Why do you think I have a crush on Leonard Snart?”

Her gaze was incredulous. “Uh, because you do? Barr, at Christmas you had him so tight to the mantel I thought you were about to start making out. The only thing missing was the mistletoe.”

He shook his head, a little embarrassed remembering. “That wasn’t—look, he’s _nineteen_. Nothing’s gonna happen.”

She gave him a look. “Your eyes barely leave him. You know that, right?”

“I… what? I’m just glad he was wearing the new clothes I got him. He looked like it was physically painful to let me spend money on him.”

“Right, and you splurge so often.”

He sipped his drink. “It was a good cause. And even _if_ I had a crush on him as his older self, it’s not like it’s going anywhere…”

She eyed him, then shrugged, breezy. “I’m not saying you’re gonna take advantage and push him into bed, you’re not that kind’of guy. I’m just saying you’re into him and it shows.”

“I’m not—he’s just handsome, okay?” There was only so much denial he could live in, after all. “That’s all it is.”

“If you say so.”

He thought of Snart at his proper age, glaring imperiously at Barry and how it ignited the entirely wrong bodily reaction in him. “I’m screwed, aren’t I?”

She laughed and clapped her hands together. “Best case scenario? By the time he grows back up, he’s just as gone on you?”

“Worst case?”

“Let’s not go there.”

 

[ … ]

 

Lenny did get his after dinner smoke after all. Dinner itself was weird. A real family meal. He’d been to one before, at a friend’s place in junior high a few times. The guy’s mom used to cook huge dinners because she had four kids and there was always some chaos and Lenny thought it was the nicest and most exhausting way to eat.

He couldn’t really remember it ever being like that with his mom, or Lisa’s, even when his grandpa was alive, years ago now.

He tried not to think about it. Just finished his smoke and made sure Lisa took a bath and made it to bed at a good time. He pulled out a bedtime story—Barry had bought them some of those too, kids’ books, and Lenny pushed that aside along with everything else—when Lisa started to fidget.

“Lenny…”

“Yeah, sis?”

“I miss home.”

So did he. “You told me that this morning, Lise.”

“Yeah but I _really_ miss home.”

He pursed his lips, brain working. “But you liked shopping today, right?”

“Kinda…”

“And picking out toys with Cisco?”

“Yeah…”

“And this blanket?” He plucked at the purple fabric.

“Yeah.”

“So it’s not so bad here?”

She heaved a great sigh. “I guess not.”

“That’s my girl.”

“C’n you… you wanna stay here tonight?”

Did he ever. But… he had debts to pay. There was a reason Lisa got to sleep easy in a big bed with a new blanket, and running from paying up only ever made things worse in the end. “I thought you said no boys allowed.”

“I _didddd_ but…”

“No buts, Lise. I got my own bed. Why don’t I read you this story, and if you’re not asleep when I’m done, I’ll read it to you again?”

She sighed again, more of a full pout, but dropped onto her back. “Promise?”

“Yeah.”

 

[ … ]

 

He had his own book out after getting ready for bed once Lisa dropped off. He kept trying to think and not to think. His fingers tapped on the back cover and over the fabric of his new jeans absently. New jeans. New shirt. New _book_. Even a fresh pack of cigarettes that Barry obviously didn’t approve of but bought anyway.

Barry, who came into the room not long later while Lenny was still failing to focus on the book.

“Hey man. You good?”

“Just ducky.”

Barry smiled like it was a good joke and Lenny glanced back at his book then sat up on his cot and put it down on the ground. Barry dropped onto the bed sitting across from him, feet on the ground, leaning a little forward.

“Did uh… was today okay? Lisa looked happy but you seemed off.”

“Lisa’s happy so I’m happy.”

“Are you? I know you’re stuck here, but it doesn’t have to be bad. You _can_ have fun, you know.”

Lenny stilled a little. The door was closed. It was just them. Everyone else was turning in. Was that Barry’s opener? It must be.

“Yeah, fun.”

Barry scoffed, shook his head and leaned back on his hands. “Do you ever say something that isn’t sarcastic?”

He felt his chest tighten. He was relying on Barry, he couldn’t burn that bridge with a bad attitude. He didn’t want to give Barry a reason to be cruel to him. Not that anyone ever needed a reason before, but Lenny wasn’t normally rolling over and offering either.

“Thank you for doing all that for Lisa. And me. I… _like_ the clothes. ‘N books.”

Barry broke out into an easy smile, relieved. “Good. I think we’re gonna set you guys up with phones tomorrow when I’m off work, or maybe get you an iPad or something, seeing how you’re stuck here for a bit.”

“We don’t need that.”

Computers were expensive. Fancy phones, new things. He couldn’t—

“No need to get angry. It’ll be nice, I promise. And you need it. And it’ll be better to make sure we can get a hold of both you guys just in case something happens again, like with the Santinis from before.”

Lenny nodded, tight all over, swallowing back another protest. The clothes, promises of gifts, making sure he was pleased with it all, the reminder that Lenny owed him his life. Yeah, he could read a room. He knew where this was going.

“Thank you.”

Barry laughed, “never thought I’d actually hear you say thanks to me, ‘specially not twice in a night. I could get used to that.”

He couldn’t drag this out anymore without making himself sick. Time to show Barry he was _appropriately_ grateful.

Lenny pushed himself off his cot, moved across the narrow space, stepped right up to Barry, and before he could chicken out, dropped to his knees. He could do this, would do this. For Lisa. Not that he wanted to think about her right now. But he had to do this and he—

“Leonard?” Barry sounded confused, and something else. Lenny’s hands shook and he leaned forward. Then, softer, “hey, uh…”

He pushed down the nerves bubbling up inside him, ignoring how hot and clammy his hands were, sliding them up the insides of Barry’s thighs. The other man’s breath caught in his throat and Lenny swallowed, didn’t dare to look up at him. He ignored the way his heart was racing, how something hot and tight in his stomach was sliding south.

Barry’s legs were tense under his hands, stock still. Anticipation? He reached Barry’s belt and one hand definitely brushed passed his dick under his pants, but—

“What are you _doing_?” It sounded strangled.

He stilled immediately, somehow even tenser than before, eyes darting to Barry’s face for a hot second. “What does it look like?” he snarled.

They didn’t need to talk about it.

Barry’s cheeks started to flush, lips a little parted, and Lenny was pretty sure he wasn’t imagining it when he felt Barry’s dick get a little hard against where his wrist was brushing over it. “Uhhh…”

He leaned forward to keep going, one hand moving to cup Barry (definitely getting hard) till the other’s hand snatched his wrist away.

“Wait, _stop_.”

Stop? He swallowed. “You’re a homo.”

“I’m— _what_? What does that have to do with—don’t call people that.”

“Homo?”

His face got dark. “It’s—don’t say it like that, we don’t say that anymore. People can be gay but you don’t just call them a homo.”

Shit. Shit shit _shit_. He’d pissed Barry off. That wasn’t the plan at all. That was way more dangerous.

“Sorry,” he drawled, gaze shifting fast from Barry’s face to then straight ahead. “I don’t know what you want me to call it but—you like it, or… men, right?” It wasn’t a question he’d normally dare to ask but it seemed pertinent, now that he was here, now that he wasn’t the one with the power.

“I—okay but that’s not the point—why did you think that because I like men I wanted you to do this?” He motioned to Lenny’s hand on his belt.

Barry was most of the way hard and shouldn’t that be answer enough?

“I’m paying you back.”

“You— _what_? That’s what you—wait you do that? When you think you owe people?”

“ _No_.” Lenny glanced to the side, pursing his lips. Why were they talking about this? But he might as well admit it. Maybe it would help. Wasn’t like Barry wouldn’t be able to tell soon anyway. “This is… a first.”

“You _don’t_ do this so… why are you doing it now?” Barry’s voice seemed a little shaky but Lenny couldn’t force himself to look up at him anymore, glaring at nothing, his own cheeks starting to burn a little. His free hand tightened on Barry’s belt.

“I need to pay you back.”

“And you thought giving me a blowjob was the way to do it?”

“I don’t have anything else to offer,” he shot back, too honest, hot and angry. Barry’s eyes went wide and it was all wrong. He looked away fast.

Barry dropped his wrist but put his hand over Lenny’s on his belt and he was sure this was it, Barry was going to undo his pants and finally let him get on with this. He readied himself to lean forward, nerves thrumming. But Barry just pulled his hand away.

Shit.

Barry held his hand, thumb rubbing circles over the back of it but Lenny couldn’t force himself to look up. He’d never been so humiliated in his life. Still on his knees and he couldn’t even sell his mouth to a queer.

Maybe Barry’s whole goal all along was to make a fool of him.

“Leonard… you…” He sighed. “Come sit next to me, okay? Please?”

He pulled his hands back and did it, not looking at the other man, a healthy half foot of space between them. He wrapped his arms around himself, jaw set. Was Barry going to kick him out for this? He couldn’t leave Lisa behind if he did. Was he insulted? Of course he was, that was a dumb question. Would he tell Joe? Would Joe kick them out inst—

“Lenny, you _never_ have to sell sex for a roof over your head, or for safety. _Ever_. You don’t owe me, _anyone_ , that. You don’t—no one does, okay?”

He just nodded, eyes narrow and fixed, hands tight in the rich fabric of his sweater.

“I mean it. I don’t even know what made you think you have to do that but I’d never do that to you.”

Was it just Barry’s conscience in the way? Was that how he’d misread the situation?

“It’s _fine_ ,” he ground out. “I want to pay you back.”

“Why? I told you, the money—”

“I can’t owe you. Owing people is dangerous. People can use it against you. Ask you to do things you don’t wanna do. If you say no, you’re liable get one between the ribs. You’re only as good as your reputation, and you don’t want a reputation as someone who doesn’t pay his debts.”

It came out in a rush. Barry had to understand. Then he’d be able to get this over with and pretend it never happened.

“… did your dad teach you that?” Barry sounded tired, but Lenny didn’t dare look. Was pity the reason he wouldn’t touch him?

“Yeah.”

Barry clearly knew all about his dad, no point in hiding that.

“You don’t have to owe me for this, Leonard.”

“I do.”

“When I said you could pay me back, I didn’t mean…” he waved vaguely and Lenny’s peripheral vision the movement of his hand. “I actually meant when you aged back to normal, you’d owe me one. We kinda do this back and forth owing each other thing, I didn’t mind having one up on you.”

“We do this?”

“By ‘this’ you mean normal, non-sexual favors for each other?”

Lenny nodded.

“Yeah I—shit, maybe I should’ve just explained sooner. I’ve been trying not to talk about our history because, well mostly because it’s pretty ugly and I didn’t want to freak you out, but maybe it would’ve helped.”

“I can handle it,” he snapped back almost reflexively, finally looking Barry in the face.

“It’s not that, it’s…” the other man scratched the back of his neck, looking embarrassed. “I guess I wanted to avoid going there for a lot of reasons. We aren’t exactly _friends,_ and it’s hard to make it make sense without getting into some personal stuff, too.”

He wanted to ask but shame prickled at the back of his throat, closing it up. He couldn’t ask Barry to tell him about his life, not now when he’d just demeaned himself so much. Begging for answers was low and his mouth twisted around the questions, saying something completely different instead.

“You were hard.” It came out like he was pissed. He _was_ pissed. At Barry. At himself. He shouldn’t have said it and he felt his cheeks get hot all over again, throat tightening up. He looked straight ahead and clutched his arms.

“What’s your point?” Barry was defensive. Lenny felt vindicated.

“You wanted me to do it.”

“No, I—”

“You wanted me in your room.”

“That’s for a different reas—”

“You could just let me pay you back and we’d be _even_. It doesn’t have to be complicated.”

He shouldn’t be saying this. He shouldn’t be leaning over. He shouldn’t be doing anything at all but he was so goddamn _mad_. So mad and so tired of being in the future and not sleeping at night and of everyone knowing more about him than he knew about himself and owing every goddamn person so much more than he could give back and being so on edge ever since the Santini goons tracked him down and he could still hear Lisa crying when he closed his eyes and he _shot his father in the heart and he put a bomb in Lisa’s head and_ —

He was under Barry.

He breathed in heavy, short gasps. Lenny had tried to move on top of him, onto his lap and Barry had tried to shove him off. He’d grabbed Barry but Barry moved faster than he could track, lightning fast, put him on his back—

“Please—”

_He could remember his first day at juvie, three guys holding him back—_

Barry had a grip on his upper arms, trying to hold him steady, down, “you need to calm down—”

Lenny was struggling, pushing, _panicking_ , “I can’t—”

_He could see the light glint on the blade aimed right for—_

Barry let go of Lenny’s arms and took hold of his wrists to stop Lenny from throwing him off. “Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay—”

Barry Barry Barry it wasn’t his dad it wasn’t juvie it wasn’t Mick coming to save him it was—

He sucked in a breath and tensed his limbs to stop them from convulsing, coiling them tight, almost trembling with tension but he managed to stop flailing. “Barry I owe you _so much_ —”

“Snart it’s _okay_ —”

“It’s not!”

Barry leaned back, kneeling, straddling his shins. He let go of Lenny’s wrists. He felt tears sting his eyes. Shit. _Shit_. Just—

“ _Fuck_!”

“Leonard I am not going to hurt you, no one is going to hurt you—you’re safe here.” His voice became quiet and strained. “No one’s gonna use this against you. You don’t owe us for being _decent_.”

He shoved himself out from under Barry and moved to the other side of the bed, back to the other man, breathing heavy. “I’m sorry, I—”

“It’s okay. You’re allowed to be overwhelmed.”

No, he wasn’t. His fingers clutched and released the sheets under his hands, trying to focus on the smooth fabric, counting seconds and counting breaths until his heartrate started to slow. Eight minutes passed.

“You were hard.”

It was the first thing that made its way out of his jumbled thoughts, the only thing he could take hold of.

The bed creaked behind him and he heard Barry sigh. “Yeah, it happens. I’m single. My libido runs high. A handsome guy between my knees palming me? I don’t know what you were expecting, but so what, I got hard. It doesn’t mean I wanted you to do that. You can have a physiological reaction without wanting or enjoying something. You know that, right?”

“I…” Maybe that was it. Maybe that’s why Lenny had been hard too. “Sure.”

“Lenny?”

“It’s fine.”

“Are you okay?”

“ _Peachy_.”

“I know what that means, you know.”

“Know everything, don’t you?”

Barry shifted on the bed again, somewhere behind him. “And I thought you were an angry adult.”

“I _am_ an adult.”

“You know what I meant.”

“I’m not some kid, Barry.”

The other man snorted. Lenny actually turned to glare at him. “No, it’s just, you called me that, one of the first times we met. A kid, I mean.”

Right. Because Lenny was supposed to be 43, so much older than Barry. He looked down. After another 22 seconds, he gained enough muster to ask, “fine, so will you tell me? My future? How I got here?”

It felt debasing. It _was_ debasing. He didn’t even know who he was. But he could hardly sink lower, at this point.

“Yeah. Yeah, I will. But… can it wait until tomorrow?” Barry nodded at the clock. “I work in the morning and tonight’s been… eventful enough.”

Right. He should probably apologize but didn’t want to, not knowing what to say.

“Truce, for now?”

That Barry was offering the olive branch was laughable. He wasn’t about to complain though.

“Yeah. Truce.”

“Alright. C’mon, let’s get ready for bed.”

He nodded and Barry left the room to brush his teeth. Lenny was sure it was so he’d have privacy changing into pajamas, and to collect himself. Barry sure took long enough that it had to be on purpose. Lenny couldn’t meet his gaze when he went to brush his own teeth, finding himself dawdling.

When he came back to the room, Barry was already in bed and facing away from him. He flicked off the light and slid into his cot, feeling like he maybe had done something awful, without any idea what to do to fix it.

 

[ … ]

 

Barry laid in bed for a long time staring at the ceiling. He was pretty sure Leonard was doing the same.

It had come so out of left field he hadn’t even known how to respond, brain completely turned to high-frequency static and white noise. He felt like crap about that now but Snart-the-younger suddenly dropping to his knees and groping him had not been in the same hemisphere as what he’d expected from the other man.

And it made him ache. He knew Snart’s childhood had been crap, but for him to honestly think that Barry was going to make him blow him as repayment for this? It was beyond the pale. He didn’t know whether to throw up or go back in time just so he could sock Lewis Snart in the jaw.

He rolled over. Snart. Leonard. _Lenny_. He still didn’t know what to do with that last one.

This had all been a terrible idea. He didn’t know what alternative would’ve been better, but Snart clearly didn’t feel safe or comfortable here and Barry was clearly in over his head. He had to take some responsibility too. Between Joe and Iris, and now Lenny was picking it up on it? He must be giving off vibes that he was into the younger man, and that didn’t sit well with him. Because he wasn’t, not really. Lenny was too young, even if he wasn’t exactly a typical nineteen-year-old, Barry knew he had too much power in this situation for it to be okay, regardless.

But after seeing him on his knees like that, he had to admit, at least to himself…There was real attraction there, hot and immediate and almost suffocating when he shot him a stubborn look from on his knees, cheeks flushed and eyes dark. Except the one Barry was lusting after wasn’t actually this version of Lenny. He wondered what he’d do if the _real_ Leonard Snart offered him a blowjob.

Oh. Oh he should not have given himself that mental image. Snart, cocky and sure and just—nope. Now he was hard as a rock and definitely couldn’t deal with it when Lenny was a few feet across the room and no doubt still awake. Just perfect.

Why hadn’t he demanded the other man room with Lisa? Oh right, worry he might sneak out never to return. He was regretting his paranoia now. He was regretting a lot of things now.

But not giving them a place to stay. Never that. Even if Snart hated him when this was all said and done, he wouldn’t regret trying to help him and his sister.

And that was the crux of it, wasn’t it? If Snart was going to forget all of this, that would be one thing. Embarrassing for Barry but harmless. But he was going to age back up and remember this. _All_ of it. Which might’ve been part of why Barry had wanted to spoil both of the siblings so much (and it was fun, because he never really let himself throw around any of the money he’d inherited from Wells, and this was an ideal opportunity to put it toward something good and not totally selfish). Because having both Leonard and Lisa as adults remembering he’d treated them so well? Yeah, he wouldn’t mind them both being a little nicer in the future.

But now… there were going to be awkward not-blowjobs and panic attacks in the mix, and it was only the second day. Caitlin had projected a minimum of three weeks of them like this.

Snart was going to grow up and screw being grateful, he was going to hate Barry for putting them in this situation. And that was _if_ he ever looked at him again.

He sighed and rolled over again. He really did have to work in the morning.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone surprised that came up? Lenny's dealing with some issues, both internalized and just base survival instincts in the face of distrust and desperation.
> 
> I'm still trying to balance the expository show vs. tell with this story. I want to go back over chapter 3 to see if I can add a *bit* more of Len learning random facts about the future, like who gets elected and how various political things resolve. '92 was an interesting time, after all. I've got more things he learns about the future throughout though :)
> 
> Also, thanks to all the people with comments about how I've been writing Lisa as relatively believably 6. If I screw it up though... please don't tell me haha. It's not something I can really fix after the fact, and I'm doing my best with it. I've spent some time around kids but don't have any of my own and I'm not in profession where I interact with them, so it's not gonna be perfect.
> 
> And thanks for all the comments on the last chapter! You guys made my week. Comments are love <3


	3. Heroism's a 21st Century Thing

 

Joe dropped off Lenny and Lisa at STAR labs on his way to work in the morning. He extracted a promise from Lisa to be good for the day and listen to the doctor and Cisco and she nodded and bounced on her heels, backpack full of toys and games. To Lenny’s surprise, he asked for a similar promise from him.

“I know it’ll be tempting for you to sneak out ‘n see the city, the future or whatever. But lay low for today, okay? We still don’t know just how many wannabe gang bangers gonna be looking for you, and till we set you up with some phones, you’n your sister are safest here.”

Lenny just looked at him. More at a point slightly to the left of him, or at his shoulder, processing that.

“I’m waiting on an answer here.”

“Oh.” His gaze flicked to meet Joe’s for a moment. “Can do.”

Joe nodded and waved to Cisco, who was waiting at the door to the hall with Lisa. Lenny had a cigarette before heading inside with them.

“Hey, uh, _Lenny_.” Cisco tucked his hair behind his ear. “Guess you guys are chillin’ here for the day?”

“Looks like it.”

“Cool.”

It grated, being treated like he was fragile, but he had enough common sense to recognize it was the smart call. He knew when to hang back. The frustrating part was that he was still operating with almost no information.

They were led through the winding halls and up the elevator to the same place he’d been in before. And then Cisco presented him with a proper ‘cell’ phone.

“Barry texted and said I should get a roll on these so I set ‘em up on my way here.”

Lenny didn’t know how to feel about that. Was Barry just trying to distance himself from the gifts after…?

“Tell me how it works.”

Cisco showed him all the basics while Lisa pressed buttons on her own version and followed along. She knew her numbers and letters but a lot of the words on the screen were beyond her, and she was more interested in pressing things based on color. Cisco showed her how to call him or her brother or Barry in an emergency and that was good, and then showed her she could play games on it. Lenny was still having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that you could touch the screen directly. It was like something straight out of Ender’s Game.

“You like sci fi?”

He’d said that last comment out loud. “Yeah. Ender’s Game is a book I got last Christmas. You know it?”

“Of course I know it, dude, it’s a classic. Have you seen—that’s a dumb question, of course you haven’t seen the movie.”

“There’s a movie?”

“Oh man, movie day! That has _got_ to happen.”

Lenny smiled a bit. Cisco was aces. A little over the top but Lisa practically squealed when she heard the word movie and Cisco was launching into telling her about all the new Disney movies that were out and Lenny started to relax for the first time since waking up in 2016.

The day was spent mostly like that. Caitlin and Cisco did work while Lenny and Lisa hung out in a side room, Lisa watching movies and playing and drawing, him mostly reading (though the Lion King was pretty good and he’d stopped reading to watch it). Barry had bought him some books the day before, fiction but also things like ‘History of the Internet’ and ‘Computers for Seniors’ (oh he’d laughed hard picking out that one), and ‘iPhones for Dummies’ and he was flipping through them. The internet seemed useful and Caitlin told him about Wikipedia, something Cisco wholly endorsed as “sick”.

He almost couldn’t believe it when Joe was there picking him up in the evening, the whole day had gone so fast.

“Learn anything interesting?” he asked on the drive. Lenny got the impression Joe didn’t like him, it wasn’t really hard to figure why, but he felt more on an even keel around Joe than most of the rest of them. West made sense. Lenny was used to men like him, family men with steady jobs who didn’t have superpowers or super-brains.

“Clinton’s gonna win the election.”

“Right, that’s comin up for you, huh? Wish his wife would win this year.”

“Read about that too. And Bush’s son got elected?”

“Dumbest man in office so far. Let’s hope Trump doesn’t take that one.”

Lenny laughed. It was hard to picture the guy from The Art of Deal (and yeah, he’d read that garbage) in charge of the country. No way.

They made it back to the West house and Lenny looked after Lisa while West melted into the couch and had a beer. The man was… really good with Lisa, actually. Answered all her questions patiently, let her tell him all about the movies they watched. He was making it easy on Lenny, that was for sure.

The thought caused a little pang somewhere in his chest Lenny didn’t want to examine. West had raised kids, he knew the drill, it wasn’t a big deal.

 Barry was home a little while later and headed fast for the kitchen while Lenny was trying to acclimate to modern news. It hadn’t improved.

“Why don’t you help Barry in the kitchen with supper? I need a shower and an hour to relax.”

Lenny tensed but nodded, set Lisa up on the couch with her Disney coloring book from which she could now excitedly recognize more of the characters, and slipped into the kitchen with Barry.

“Hi.”

“Sn—Lenny, hey.”

“Joe said I should help you with supper.”

“Oh. Uh. Wanna peel potatoes?”

They worked in mostly silence, Lenny considering what he’d learned during the day. Computers had come a long way from the little MS-DOS his dad had bought on a whim and not used, calling it a no-good piece of junk. “I like the new cellphone.”

“Oh Cisco set them up? Good. He put me on your contacts?”

“Yeah.”

Barry nodded. “He show you how to text?”

He shook his head jerkily, dropping another potato into the pot.

“Oh, ‘kay. I’ll show you after supper. It’s easier than calling unless it’s an emergency.”

“Sure.”

“Look, I—”

“How’s things coming in here?” Joe wandered in, aiming for the fridge.

“We’re good.”

Joe looked between Barry and him, stood up a bit straighter, then shook his head and snorted. “Uh huh. I’ll leave you to it then. Wally should be home soon.”

Barry deflated and sighed, leaning against the counter after Joe disappeared. Lenny's hands were still on the cutting board, potatoes all peeled and chopped.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry, about last night. I meant to tell you that it was okay.”

“Okay?”

“I just mean—what you thought, how you were feeling, what uh, what you did,” Barry scratched the back of his neck. “I just wanted to make sure we’re cool.”

“We’re… cool.”

“How was your day with Cisco?”

It was easier territory. Lenny started to tell him while Barry moved around the kitchen, and things were almost feeling normal when Barry's phone started to ring.

“Hey—yeah, now? Okay, I’m on it.”

Barry slipped the phone back into his pocket. “Hey Joe!” he called into the other room, “got a live one, bank robbery in progress, gotta run!”

“Have fun!”

Barry actually grinned, a bright smile that came to his face so easy Lenny almost felt jealous. “Always do.”

And then he was gone.

 

[ … ]

 

He hadn’t really forgotten Barry had superpowers, it was just… not the type of thing you _thought_ about. The future was enough. Advances in computing, communications technology, all of that? At least made sense. Superpowers were something else. Seeing a guy leave the room in a streak of lightning wasn’t something you got used to after the first time.

They turned on the TV while dinner cooked and watched the news cover the story, the anchors talking avidly about The Flash being on the scene and hostages being safe. Lisa said it was boring and kept playing her Angry Birds game, but Lenny’s gut started to churn.

“He just… does this?”

“Oh yeah,” Wally said, planting himself on the couch to watch, “all the time. This isn’t even a big one for him.”

“Barr likes to show off, you’ll probably see him around the building in a minute waving at the cameras.”

“And people… know he does this?”

“They don’t know who’s under the mask, that wouldn’t be safe—”

“But hell yeah they know he does this! The Flash is like a celebrity.”

“Really?” Lenny hadn’t clued into that. Barry had explained it like he saved people but…

“He even got the key to the city, here I’ll show it to you.” Joe looked proud, heading to one of the shelves where there was a small ornate box.

“The key to the city?”

“Oh yeah, on Flash Day,” Wally chimed in again, still grinning.

“Flash _Day_?”

“He’s got a city holiday named after him. He’s a little weird about it still.” Joe waved it aside, coming back to the couch.

 _A holiday_?

“Dunno why,” Wally was shaking his head as Joe was pulling out the key to the freakin’ city.

“’Cause he still blames himself for all the bad things that happened.”

Lenny's head was spinning a little.

“Can I see?” Lisa asked, peering over at the key in Joe’s hands.

Joe handed the key to Lisa and told her to be careful with it, eyes crinkling as Lisa gasped. “It’s so pretty.”

“Uh huh.”

“The city _loves_ him,” Wally directed at Lenny. “Dude’s got a coffee named after him too.”

“He’s like some kinda superhero,” Lenny breathed, looking at the key that was too big in Lisa's little fingers.

“Not some kind of. He’s _exactly_ a superhero.” Wally grinned wide.

Well, shit.

 

[ … ]

 

Barry didn’t make it back home until late. The bank robbery had led to one thing which led to another, culminating in taking down some guys trying to ship anti-meta weapons into the city and also a drug bust. By then, he was just having fun chasing down some bad guys—Cisco and Caitlin were in his ear and it felt good to get back to basics for a night.

When he made it back home he saw that the lights were out. He brushed his teeth and cleaned up before slipping into his room, trying to be quiet, to not to trip over clothes on his way to the closet to pull out some pajamas.

“Hey.”

Snart was awake, of course.

“Hi.” Barry prayed this wasn’t gonna be too awkward. He pulled out some suitable pajamas in the streetlight coming in from the window.

“So you’re… a hero.”

He blinked and looked over to where Lenny was sitting up on his cot in just a t-shirt, blankets pooling at this waist. He glanced away fast and started to haul on his pj’s.

“Yeah, that’s… kinda my thing?”

“Guess I know what that makes me.”

Oh. Barry dragged a hand through his hair and moved into bed, sitting down to face Lenny. He needed sleep but maybe not as bad as Snart needed to hear about their history. He was about to explain but the other man kept talking,

“I’m sorry about… last night.”

“We don’t have to—”

“No I need to. I thought… I thought you were like everyone else. Everyone wants something in return ‘n I thought… you’d use me like that because anyone else would. So, y’know, I’m sorry.” He shrugged. “I read you wrong. You’re a good person… I didn’t really know that existed.”

Barry's throat stuck a little and it took him a minute to even know what to say. Snart’s older self had known _exactly_ what kind of person Barry was and the first thing he’d done was use it against him. This version of him? Was humbled by it.

Barry took it as more proof of what he had always known. There was good in Snart, and always had been. Even if life forced him to bury that down.

“Thanks, Lenny. That means… a lot more than I think you really know, right now. But… you weren’t all wrong, either. I’m still human. I’m… I’ve made mistakes, some really serious ones.” Barry looked at his hands. “I’ve caused a lot of harm, some I can’t really make up for.”

“Joe mentioned you blame yourself.”

He laughed, but not because it was funny. “Yeah, well, that’s what you get when something’s your fault.”

“You’re still a good person.”

“So are you.”

In the yellow-orange streetlight streaming in, he saw Lenny lay back down. “Not really. You’re a good person because they were _mistakes_ , Barry. People like me… we do that on purpose.”

He rolled over then, cutting off the conversation, Barry still staring at him in the dark.

Things were getting a little too real with Leonard Snart.

 

[ … ]

 

The next night after dinner, Barry asked Lenny to sit with him on the porch.

Lenny was making Lisa help with clean up, teaching her things like bringing her plate over to the dishwasher, but Joe took over for Lenny and waved him out when Barry nodded at the door. He brought two beers ‘n a can of coke and put them next to him on the stairs where he was sitting.

“In case you want something to drink. I asked Joe and he doesn’t care if you have a beer. Wally does sometimes, in the house, and he won’t be 21 for another month. There’s no pressure though.”

Lenny took the beer and popped the top. He’d been drinking since he was 14 anyway.

“This is pretty good.”

“Microbrew. Beer culture changed since the 90’s.”

“Hm.”

Beer selection had changed like everything else in the grocery stores. They were huge now, with brighter lights and aisles for days, about a million more things for sale. He could still remember the first Walmart opening in Central City and what a big deal it was.

“D’you have any questions? About 2016, I mean?”

He shrugged. “Not really.” Things were different, but they were mostly the same too. He could get used to the computers and the nice TVs and the sleek cars and even not smoking inside. The hard things to wrap his head around were littler, like how people talked to each other, the words they used, the ones that were and weren’t okay, the way they responded. Everything was subtle but there. It was all a little cleaner, especially the jokes, but at the same time like there was somehow less respect, in a different way. Like the streets and neighborhood the Wests lived in, clean but it’s not like people knew each other better. All a little more like the Stepford Wives maybe. Lots of bullshit still.

Well, there was all that and the superpowers, but that wasn’t _supposed_ to be normal.

“Then what d’you wanna know about yourself? Or our history?”

He took a swig of his beer. Was that a carte blanche? Hard to say. Barry was a good person (a _hero_ ) but so far he didn’t seem like a sucker, which left Lenny wondering just how bad it all really was.

“How’d I meet you?”

Barry snorted, “stealing something. I stopped you.”

“Bet I liked that.”

“I wasn’t able to bring you in, some guy on your crew shot a security guard and I had to rush him to the hospital. But you figured out a lot from it… went and picked up the cold gun the very next day.”

“I didn’t have it?”

“No, someone stole it from our lab. When you showed up with it and used it to test my speed…” Barry's face got dark and he took a swig.

“What?”

“I don’t—”

“Tell me.”

He sighed and look forward, out onto the street. “You’re right, fine. Someone died. A stranger. It was actually… the first time I wasn’t fast enough to get to someone.”

He lit a cigarette. Shit. “Okay.”

“You got away, stole a diamond, and when I came after you… you derailed a train so that I’d be distracted trying to save everyone on it. I was almost having fun for a moment till then.”

“ _Fun_?”

“Throwing jibes back and forth. Catching up to you. You looked like you were having fun too, hopping out’ve the train. You _almost_ killed me.”

He held up two fingers to indicate a miniscule distance like it was some kind of joke, a cheeky little grin.

“Sounds like the start of a beautiful friendship,” Lenny drawled, flicking the ash. Barry actually laughed. Lenny felt something warm stir up in the pit of his stomach, warm but nebulous.

“Yeah okay, it was bad. My friends had to show up and save me. But… it’s been a lot worse than that. Everyone on the train was okay.”

He’d been afraid to ask, but something relaxed in him at that. A train full of people would’ve been… “We went from that to… this?”

“Not overnight.”

Barry explained they ran into each other again, that he was exposed as the Flash to the city, that he worked with someone named Mick Rory—

“He’s alive?”

“You already know him?”

Lenny was alert now. “We met in juvie. I want to find him here.”

“I… don’t know if that’s a great idea. Not to mention I don’t really know how to get a hold of him. He doesn’t know I’m the Flash and…”

He tried to quell his disappointment. Mick would look out for him, he always had in juvie. He _knew_ Mick. But Barry’s expression was wary and wrong, watching him too closely.

Mick was alive. That was enough for now.

“What happened?” he asked instead of pushing. And Barry told him. He listened and nodded. It did sound almost fun, the way he described it. Fun for him, at least, maybe not Barry or Caitlin, at least until the part where Lenny and Mick got arrested.

“So then how’d I bust out of prison?”

“That time?” How many times were there? “You never even made it to prison. Lisa busted you out en route.”

“ _Lisa_?” His heart shot up to his throat. Barry winced.

“Oh… right. She uh… she’s part of this.”

He shook his head. There was no way he’d let her be involved in all this, not if he could help it. “ _Why_?”

Barry shrugged, “I guess because she wants to be? She’s not the type of girl you cross.”

She was gonna be a figure skater. That’s she wanted to do when she grew up. He got her lessons last winter and she loved it already. She had a competition this fall.

“Lenny?”

“I’m fine.”

Barry sighed. “Lisa's fine, you know.”

“Now I know why she was around to get a bomb in her head.”

“Hey, that was _not_ your fault.”

Lenny ran his fingers along the woodgrain of the porch, the seam of his jeans. He already felt like lighting another cig, considered pulling one out. “So I tried to kill you twice. With my best friend and my baby sister.”

Barry sighed. “Yeah… but then everything changed.”

Lenny remembered that Caitlin had said he’d tried to kill Barry, all of them, sort of. It was so much worse hearing the details, first with Mick and kidnapping Caitlin, and then Lisa— _Lisa_ —kidnapping Cisco, him icing Cisco’s brother to get Barry’s name.

He fell totally silent by then, listening. Their deal, extorting Barry, paying so little in return. He didn’t kill people anymore. He didn’t know what to make of that.

And that was all it took for Barry to trust him. Maybe he was a sucker, if Barry came to him for help. Lenny wasn’t even surprised to hear he betrayed him with Lisa’s help.

By then, he felt a little queasy. Couldn’t look right at Barry, just rolled an unlit cigarette in his fingers, playing with it. Barry fell quiet for a few minutes, finally, and he just couldn’t understand.

Why was this person _helping_ him?

“How could you… why’re you… did you forgive me for any of that?”

“Well… yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because there’s good in you.”

He snorted. “Right.”

“I mean it. I saw it the night you found out my name, when you agreed not to let anyone else die if I stayed out of your way.”

“And then I sold you up shit creek.” Lenny scowled and lit the smoke.

“But you also saved my life.”

He stopped sharp and glanced at Barry, tense.

“With Simmons. You saved me. You let the metas free but you didn’t let them hurt my friends, Lenny. You told me straight up not to trust you and I did. You made sure I learned a lesson but you also protected us. You kept your word, in your own sorta way.”

“… I see what Joe meant.”

“What?”

Lenny glanced at his shoes. “At the lab. You _must_ have a soft spot for me—older me—if you still believe I’m halfway okay after all that.”

Barry stilled next to him, then relaxed with a rushed out laugh, shaking his head. “Right. Yeah. So you heard all that, huh?”

He puffed his smoke, a little uncomfortable. Thinking about Barry having a soft spot for him made him think about Barry having a crush and that made him think about totally humiliating himself.

“You know, you get it, when you’re older. It’s… I feel like it’s the same for both of us. Not the soft spot, just I think… we understand each other. If you’d grown up different… or if _I’d_ grown up different, we’d be a lot alike.”

Lenny didn’t believe that for a second. “I’d never be a hero.”

“You’re Lisa’s hero.”

“Doesn’t count.”

Barry smiled crookedly at him. “Some things never change.”

He kept doing that, comparing Lenny to his older self. He couldn’t figure out why it rankled so much.

“So you lecture my old self like this too?”

“Every chance I get.”

“Aren’t we enemies?”

“Yeah but you’re a lousy villain.”

The way he said it, Lenny’s lips twitched up; he tried to cover it by taking a drag, but a glance at Barry told him he was failing. They both broke out into a smile—Len’s was dim, but he couldn’t help the way his lips tugged up at the corners anyway. It was hard to explain, but Barry had a sort of infectious smile.

“So that’s all the ugly history?”

“Most of it, yeah. You already know about the whole thing with your dad, and you were in prison for a bit after that—kinda hard to avoid, the cops showed up before I could get you out of there—but you broke out back last Christmas. You came and warned me about a plot on my life but you’ve been laying low since then, small time stuff. I figured you were ramping up for something big but,” he shrugged, “it’s hard to tell with you. And I had other stuff on the go.”

Lenny nodded and finished the smoke.

“You really should quit, you know.”

“You lecture me on that in the future too?”

“I don’t think you smoke when I know you.”

“Really?” Now _that_ was surprising. “Everyone smokes.”

“Not anymore.”

“Still, no reason to quit. I’ll be back to my old self in a month, right?”

“Yeah but you _might_ end up re-addicted. Things you do this month don’t magically disappear when you go back to be 43.”

He hadn’t really thought about that. Apparently, he’d age back up in the space of minutes, just sort of suddenly get a headache and be old again. What remained from this month hadn’t felt like it should matter. “Still.”

Barry sighed. “Let’s head back in.”

 

[ … ]

 

It stood to reason that after spending his evening with Lenny, Barry would dream about him that night.

And it stood to reason that with the restriction of someone in his room each day and less ‘alone’ time than usual, he might wake up hard sometime this week, his libido always sort of on overdrive.

He just really wished those factors hadn’t combined into one, and wished it wasn’t 4am and that he wasn’t sporting an aching erection after a dream about a _nineteen year old Leonard Snart_ , particularly one about him making good on what he’d started the other night, on his knees by the side of Barry’s head.

He really shouldn’t be revisiting that mental image while Snart was just on the cot over there, breathing in quiet little kitten-snores. It was kind of adorable. Barry was cataloguing all the adorable things about Snart. Who knew there would be so many?

But no, this wasn’t good. Because sure the Snart in his dream was _very_ eager, unlike how things had actually gone down, but thinking about that right now was really not helping the almost-throbbing levels of need between his legs.

He had to deal with it.

To speed, or not to speed? To speed.

He flashed out of the room and into the bathroom, hoping to be quieter that way and not wake up Lenny.

He took himself in hand once the door was closed and tried to revisit the dream, just aiming at completion here. In reality, he hadn’t even thought twice before stopping the younger man. But that was a real situation, and a bad one. In _fantasy_ … he let himself think about it. About them both wanting it. About letting Snart continue, about fisting his hands in his dark—so much darker than when he was 43—coarse hair, how Lenny—Snart?—would tease—because what was Leonard Snart if not an asshole—about how hot his mouth would feel around Barry, the sweet suction—

It didn’t take much more than that.

He ought to feel like an asshole, but it wasn’t the first time he’d gotten off thinking of Snart, even if it was the first time thinking of him at this age, even if his thoughts were split between young and old, somehow combining both Snarts into it.

But it was still the middle of the morning, and he had better things to do than try to figure himself out. He had far worse things to feel guilty about than an errant fantasy about Lenny, so long as he could keep those thoughts to himself. And far better things to do, like sleep. He could feel guilty in the morning.

So he cleaned up and slipped back into bed in top speed. Lenny was still not-quite-snoring and Barry let himself relax toward sleep. He was only human, meta or not.

 

[ … ]

 

The thoughts chased themselves around Lenny’s head for the next few days.

Barry Allen was The Flash, the savior of Central City. Lenny was Captain Cold. He derailed trains and stole and kidnapped and killed.

His thoughts kept straying toward trying to really figure out what the hell he was doing here. He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. Kept glancing at Lisa and trying to picture the woman she’d grow up into. The woman from the photos he found on the internet with a wicked smile and loose curls. There were no pictures of him except a recent mugshot. Wikipedia told him both more and less than he wanted to know, the article citing that it was re-created after the ‘Leonard Snart data purge’ which had its own _separate_ article.

A nervous feeling slowly crept into his stomach, one Lenny couldn’t place. It grew every time he looked too long at Barry and every time he felt too comfortable around Joe and Wally too. He smoked more and got more quiet and stopped reading about himself. He beat off in the shower each morning and tried to take the edge off his worry.

He wondered if he’d be able to look Barry in the eye at 43, knowing he didn’t deserve half of what he’d given Lenny and Lisa. He didn’t _seem_ like some gullible sucker, but maybe he was one after all. But Lenny had never met a sucker who wasn’t an easy mark, and Barry wasn’t a mark. He didn’t know _what_ he was.

He smelled like ozone and ocean and laughed too quietly and tried too hard to make them smile. He looked sad when no one was watching and didn’t touch the key to the city when Lisa brought it over from the shelf to ask him about it. He laughed about the holiday named after him and talked about how it was important to inspire people, but Lenny caught him looking at pictures on the mantle right after, of people Wally said were all dead.

A week into the future and Lenny didn’t know what to make of him… at all.

 

[ … ]

 

The last few days of the week passed almost normally for Barry, or as normally as they could. Something like a routine had developed. Lenny would wake up before him in the morning and head to wake up his sister. As much as Lenny complained about being an adult, everyone else agreed it wasn’t safe to have him and Lisa freely roaming the city, and Lenny was reluctant to leave her side for long. So Joe would drop off the Snarts at STAR lab where they could stay out of trouble, or that morning to visit the library, since apparently Lenny was dying to check it out.

Barry got updates about what they got up to during the day most days. The days before the library visit, Cisco was watching through all the best of the classic Disney, trying to keep Lisa occupied. When she wasn’t watching movies, apparently she was like Caitlin’s little assistant at the lab, running around and fetching things, even helping combine some of the chemicals. Cisco had picked up a kid’s science set and was teaching her some chemistry.

Lenny was bored to death, Barry knew, but he read a lot, and maybe the trip to the library would help.

Evenings were the same as ever, except with a kid around so they played different games on family night. Not that Barry saw all that much of Lisa because he didn’t get home until after seven most nights and she was in bed well before nine. Then Barry was either out running or sitting up with Lenny.

Which was… fine, mostly. He wasn’t asking as many questions now, a lot more withdrawn. Barry was reigning in any staring or prolonged eye contact and was careful not to flirt. It wasn’t what Lenny needed, some older guy lusting after him. Especially not when he had so much else going on.

Because he did, even bored as he maybe was. He was busy being a parent. It made sense now, their deep loyalty, Leonard and Lisa’s. Barry could see now how natural it was for Snart to have her as his biggest (his only?) weakness. He was more like her father than her brother, in all the ways that mattered.

And it was almost weird for him to see it. At 19, Barry had been skipping o-chem 201 to vlog about Big Foot, ditching the city to take a bus to Gotham because some guy was supposed to have the skin of an alligator there. Lenny kept Lisa’s routine, got her food, made sure she had her bath, read her bedtimes stories, and just generally made her fit seamlessly into their lives because he was totally in charge of looking out for her.

He couldn’t really fathom what it would be like, being a mostly-single parent at that age. But Lenny didn’t seem to even think about it, just smoked and read and drank more beer in those couple days than Joe necessarily approved of. He was angry, definitely, with a chip on his shoulder to match the weight of the world. But he was a good goddamn brother.

“What do you do in 92?” Barry asked that evening after dinner, distracting Lenny from his books with a game of cards. “The same?”

He shrugged, glancing at his hand. “Mostly, except work too.”

“Who looks after Lisa when you’re at work?”

Lenny looked at him like he was an idiot. “You know I don’t live with her, right?”

“You… don’t?”

He snorted and shook his head. “Old man kicked me out two years ago. Had to quit school, get a job. Two, sometimes. Someone’s gotta keep the power on over there and pay for Lise’s daycare.”

Daycare, oh. Barry wasn’t sure what to say. “You just seem so natural with her.”

He glanced at Barry with a dull look. “I know the drill. But she’s at the neighbor’s down her block in the summer during the day, and she’s got school in the fall. She won’t remember that though, thinks she’s just starting grade one.”

“Where do you work?”

He tapped his cards. “Odd jobs. I was swamping trucks last month but I got laid off. I was supposed to work a job for one of the Families but… guess I’ll find out how it turned out when I get my memories back.”

And Barry felt his heart hurt, just a little. For all Snart treated Central City like a playground, the truth was the man had grown up way too fast.

 

[ … ]

 

By the time the weekend came, finding the Snarts in an alleyway felt like it was already a million miles away. So much had happened in the space of a little over a week, it felt like the world had tilted on an axis.

And after his conversation with the younger man Friday night, Barry realized _why_ Leonard was acting like he was stuck in a golden cage. Why he was eager to go for walks around the neighborhood to stretch his legs so often, to get out, anywhere. He’d been living on his own for two years, independent, and now he was cooped up with an overprotective family afraid to let him out of their sight for long.

With that in mind, Barry decided that doing something different on his day off was a good idea.

He couldn’t really take the Snart siblings too many places—restaurants were fine but not really special, same with going to a movie, although Lisa would probably love seeing some animation on a big screen. Central didn’t really have an amusement park, but it did have some indoor jungle gym places, one that even had an arcade attached, and Barry let himself be tempted. Lenny had complained about how there were no arcades around the city anymore (but been amazed at the skate park and Barry was still trying to wrap his head around the mental image of Captain Cold on a skateboard).

Announcing that morning they were going for a fun day out was met with one of the most excited little girls Barry had ever seen. She spent twenty minutes picking out which dress to wear and another ten sitting patiently while Lenny brushed her hair into two little pigtails. Lenny put on one of the nicer shirts Barry had got him and he tried not to smile too much when he saw him in it. He was skinny at 19 but still had a serious grace about him.

Cisco joined them at the venue and Barry was grateful for it. He brought along a few of his younger cousins to play with Lisa too, along with their mother, who Barry had heard some nice things about but never met. Wally joined in for the racing games at the arcade, challenging Lenny and delighted to try his hand at beating ‘Captain Cold’ at something.

Barry felt pretty damn good about himself, watching all of them having fun. Lenny seemed relaxed for the first time since meeting them, having enough fun that he actually seemed to be _forgetting_ to smoke. He dared Barry to a game of air hockey and Barry didn’t even _let_ him win, he was just good enough to beat Barry on his own.

“Rematch?”

“Sure but I’ll win.” Lenny was jubilant enough to be cocky, that little smirk coming out, and Barry hadn’t realized he missed it.

“Oh is that so?”

“I always win at hockey.”

Barry snorted. Of course he did. “You play?”

He shrugged. “Street hockey, in the winter. Been a long time since I played on a school team.”

Right. Of course. Barry forged ahead. “Well, that’s more than me. Most I’ve ever done is seen a Combines game.”

They kept exchanging words—including challenges—while Lenny summarily beat Barry again and Wally took over, at least giving the other man a proper run for his money, but it was clear that Lenny had more practice than either. Barry wasn’t going to fault him for it, grinning wide at the whole thing.

When it was time to go check on Lisa with Cisco’s cousins, Lenny was so great with her, giving her a 10-minute deadline before they left, one Barry knew would turn into 15 anyway. Cisco took a break from watching to grab a coke with Wally, patting Barry on the arm and confirming he was having fun. His cousins were all in the ball pit and their mother was reading. Families were pretty much everywhere around them in amicable chaos.

Which was why Barry was confused when Lenny’s face stiffened into a cold mask while Barry was trying to make small talk about plans for the next weekend, maybe bowling. It was clear Lenny wasn’t listening, eyes fixed on a point, and Barry looked over, following his gaze, high alert already starting to kick in but—

Oh.

It was two men. Holding hands. Laughing and casual and at ease with one another, one in such a suburban-dad polo and khakis outfit that they looked like they ought to be in an advertisement or something, a little girl, no doubt their daughter, bounding toward them.

“Five more minutes?”

Barry was paying attention now, tuning into their conversation.

“You know we have to pick up your sister from dance soon?”

“C _’mooon_. C’mon c’mon c’mon c’moooon.”

Barry couldn’t help but smile at the display, fully expecting Lisa to have a similar whine in a few minutes’ time.

“Why don’t you go say bye to your friends?” The other dad pointed to where they were standing.

“ _Daddd_.”

“No buts, young lady.” The first dad was obviously the stern one.

“Daddy?” the kid looked at the other dad, the one obviously trying to hide a smile. 

“Sorry Jenny, gotta side with your dad on this one.”

The kid threw her hands in the air and effected a pout as she jogged back to her friends. Barry turned back to Lenny and his own smile fell right off his face. Snart looked like stone, and maybe a little sick.

He remembered his comment calling Barry ‘a homo’ and tried to unstick his tongue from his mouth to rebuke whatever homophobic thing was about to come out of the younger man’s mouth.

“Did you see that?”

“Yes, Lenny, but don’t even—”

“They’re gonna get themselves killed.”

Barry’s mouth snapped shut. Then open. “ _What_?”

“They—what—is that, in 2016, am I reading this wrong?” Lenny whipped around sharp to face him and Barry winced.

“I don’t know how bad things were in ’92, but people are allowed to be gay and out in 2016.”

“They have a _child_. Someone’ll—someone’s gonna have a problem with that, them—just here like—like _normal_ families.”

Barry cringed. “That’s allowed now. Surrogacy, adoption, it’s all… okay not ‘normal’ in that everyone does it. But look around. Does anyone else here seem to mind? This is an inclusive place, they’ve got rainbow flags on the door. It’s not perfect yet, in 2016, but there’s progress.”

“Explain it to me.”

His eyes were intense, blue and meeting Barry’s gaze without blinking and he had to resist the urge to step back at the suppressed fire in them. But it wasn’t a look of disgust. Barry knew it wasn’t.

It was hope.

He’d always sort of privately assumed that Snart wasn’t the _straightest_ villain he’d met, probably part of his own attraction to the man, but he didn’t have any articulated thoughts on the matter. He refused to think about it after the other night with Lenny on his knees. But…

He couldn’t leave someone with that kind of veiled, scared, angry hope in their eyes. Not about this. So he opened his mouth to _try_ and start to explain—

“Hey guys! Ready to head out?” Cisco was back with an extra-large soda and a grin. Lenny stepped back from Barry by a full foot.

“Gonna grab a smoke before we go.”

Cisco scowled at him. “Enjoy your death stick, man.”

“I’ll join you.”

 Cisco looked at him warily and he waved away his concern. “Can you get Wally to round up Lisa in a few?” he didn’t wait for an answer, stalking Lenny out and around the side of the building.

“Hey, Lenny, hold up.”

The other man looked like he was going to keep walking, but after two more steps, stopped and pulled out a cigarette. It was already lit when Barry jogged the last few steps to catch up to him.

“Hey, it’s okay.”

“ _What’s_ okay?” His voice was hard and acerbic and that much felt familiar, at least.

He dragged a hand through his hair. “All of it. Being gay, or bi, or queer in any way.”

“I’m _not_ a—”

“I’m not saying you are! I’m not. I’m saying—it’s okay for _anyone_ to be.”

“Says the homo himself.”

Barry glared. “Don’t call me that. I mean it. I’m bi if you want to call me anything.”

Lenny’s face twisted into something. “As in bisexual?”

“Yes, as in bisexual.”

“So you have AIDS?”

It was meant to be an insult, he knew, a defense but—fuck, he couldn’t help it, Barry was _pissed_.

“ _What_?! What kind of— _no_! Jesus, no, Lenny, what the fuck? Why would you even—” He took a breath but Lenny still stepped back and swallowed, eyes narrowed.

“It’s not an unfair question!” he defended, and Barry had to shake his head because—

“Yeah, in 2016, it kind of is!” Not that Lenny would know that. He forced himself to calm down, took a deeper breath and counted to five before continuing. “You don’t just ask people that because they’re not straight.”

“You… did they cure it?”

The wind went out of his anger. There was that hope again, almost bleeding into his anger, warring with how he was so outwardly suspicious. Barry wanted to hit his head against the wall, honestly. How could he even begin to explain the history of the AIDS crisis since ‘92?

“No, they didn’t… we… jesus. Okay. Wikipedia. Caitlin told me you like Wikipedia, right? You’re gonna use it. But just… let me give you some of the highlights, okay?”

Lenny nodded and Barry sighed, leaned against the wall of the building, and put his thoughts in order.

“Look, we didn’t cure AIDS, but we can _treat_ it now. People get HIV and can live for years and years without ever having it turn into AIDS. Do you know the difference?” Lenny shook his head. “Okay, more reading. But look, there’s still stigma, it’s still bad, it still kills people, but it’s not—it’s different now. It’s scary, trust me I know it’s scary, but if you only have safe sex and don’t share needles, it’s probably something you’ll never have to worry about.”

“… and bisexuals… they aren’t still the ones causing straight people to get it?”

“Where did you even get that idea?”

“The news. Time Magazine. Everyone.”

“For _real_? Wha—no. No. I can’t believe they were publishing that garbage.”

“Okay.” Lenny sucked on his smoke a bit. Barry was about to tell him that they should go back inside, but he kept talking, a little rushed. “So men raise kids now? They won’t get beat for it?”

Barry did not have the energy to explain in depth. “It’s… complicated. I won’t say _everyone’s_ okay with it, or that everyone’s perfect by any stretch, but that’s not the direction society’s going. In big cities especially, decent people treat homophobia like it’s really not okay. Because it’s _not_. There’s more rights, awareness, just… everything. I’ll show you online later.”

“And it’s all… just okay?”

It was so guarded, scuffing his toe and looking at the ground. Barry’s heart swelled a bit, a dull and familiar ache, an insecurity he thought he’d put to rest years ago. “Yeah. It’s okay. I promise.”

Lenny was finally quiet for a moment, taking that in. Barry took the opportunity to nod toward the front of the building and start walking. “We should head back in, but I’ll answer all your questions about it once we’re home, okay? Just don’t stare too long just because two guys in there happen to be married and have a—”

Barry stopped because Lenny stopped. He turned and the other was just staring at him wide-eyed.

“What?”

“Men can get _married_?”

Oh. Oh hell. He really needed Wikipedia’s help for this.

 

[ … ]

 

Lenny was reeling. The whole drive back—they took Wally’s car and Lenny was in the front, Barry opting to run back and ‘stretch his legs’—and then in the house.

Men could marry other men. They could raise kids. Families. AIDS was _—(“You hear about Freddie Mercury?” “Who didn’t? Got what was coming to him, I say. AIDS is gonna clean up America.”_ )—apparently not even the same. People lived with it for decades.

 _Decades_. One of his biggest fears and it might be cured sometime soon, in his lifetime. There were vaccines in the works. It was funded. People—straight, normal people— _cared_.

He read for hours on Wikipedia. Barry sat in the room, on his own computer while Lenny scrolled around the tablet Barry had bought him. The acronym, more labels and identities than he could wrap his head around, parades, politicians showing _support_ , promising to ‘protect’ the community. Lenny thought about the broadcasts he watched a few years ago in the living room with his dad about how their communities needed to be protected _from_ ‘the gays’.

The world got flipped on its head in 25 years.

Not that it was all good. It wasn’t. There were ‘families values’ people still around. There were beatings sometimes, there was a nightclub shooting, there were people who refused service at their stores, things that Lenny was used to seeing. Some things hadn’t changed all that much. Except he kept reading, and his throat closed up once he got to reading about the resources for teens now, about the projects and vigils, about how people were trying to make things _better_.

He choked back the rush of emotion stinging at his eyes, pulled it down and forced himself to breathe slow and deep. This wasn’t—it wasn’t _him_ —he wasn’t…

But it was okay. Here, in 2016. It might be… okay.

He always knew the thoughts he had about men were dangerous. Pushed them to the back and forced himself to focus on his thoughts about ladies, the girls around the neighborhood who didn’t mind killing time together if he shared his cigs. About knock-outs, like Iris, girls so far out of his league it hurt. Or the working girls he had to make time with after a job with the Santinis. Made all the right jokes and never looked too long at the wrong people. He knew he could be killed for staring at the wrong person. Even if the guy didn’t kill him, his own father might if he ever found out about the thoughts that crossed Lenny’s mind.

He wondered if he ever got up the courage to act on them, later, over the years. He didn’t know if he hoped he did or didn’t.

“Any more questions?” Barry asked again. He’d been asking periodically, directing Len’s reading.

He licked his dry lips. “Not… not about the research.”

Barry glanced up. “About… anything else?”

“Does… Joe know, about you?”

Barry’s shoulders relaxed. “Yeah. Of course. So does Iris. I don’t know if it’s ever come up with Wally, I haven’t dated anyone in a while, but I’m not in the closet. I don’t really talk about it at work much though because the place is kinda macho, even though the captain’s gay.”

Lenny took a moment to digest that, eyes narrowing. Was Barry pulling his leg? “The _police_ captain?”

Barry laughed, “gay and married. His husband’s great.”

Husband. It didn’t seem real. “And no one’s hurt you over it?”

Barry winced. “I mean… I didn’t come out in high school. Teenagers can be… tough. But it was mostly fine in university. I got some homophobic comments once in a while but nothing _technically_ more cruel than anything I was getting just for being myself anyway, or for who my dad was. I know some people have it way worse than that though, still. Everyone’s got it different.”

He nodded. Of course. It was just… It was a lot to process.

“You okay?”

“Fine.”

He glanced over and caught Barry’s crooked smile. “”Kay. I’m gonna go for a run.”

He nodded and Barry was stretching then out the door. Finally, he could breathe. He laid back and wondered at all the good things the future had in store. Tolerance, _acceptance_ , better healthcare, cool tech, superpowers.

And somehow, he’d still turned out the same as he always figured he would if he managed to live past 25.

At least some things were constant.

 

[ … ]

 

Mick walked into Saints and Sinners late in the evening, tired and in sore need of a beer. He wasn’t here for that though.

He signaled to Cassidy across the bar, the chick always there to open in the afternoons when Snart dragged him out for a shitty lunch at the place. Who the fuck liked pickled eggs anyway?

She nodded at him after sorting out her other customers, “what’ll it be?”

He leaned forward on his elbows. “Seen Snart around?”

He’d heard some things through the grapevine. Some disquieting things about his friend maybe not being fully _himself_ right now.

Cassidy shook her head. Mick nodded and pulled over a napkin, scrawling a number. He pushed it across the bar. “If he shows up.”

He wasn’t expecting much, but it was possible. Who knew how much time he’d have lost if that meta really did get to him, and if he’d remember this place. But Mick had to start somewhere.

Cassidy took the number and slipped it into a worn looking book. “Anything else?”

“I’ll be in Keystone if anyone’s looking for me.”

She nodded, and that was that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk about the pacing of this chapter and the next one. There isn't much movement of the *plot* in part because this is a character piece, so we're looking more and more at Lenny from different angles, and his perception of Barry, and their developing relationship. That's just... different for me. And a lot of stuff is condensed because they have a lot going on the space of a short time. I hope it works, anyway. This is sort of a 'hump' chapter IMO. The next one has more humor and a bit more plot :)
> 
> Thanks for all the comments so far. You guys make my day, honestly. <3


	4. Print Media's Been Dying for a While

 

Wally was home early Monday when Lenny and Lisa got in with Joe, playing something on the TV. Lenny fixed Lisa a snack while Joe went to shower, but his curiosity got the better of him, watching from the doorway of the dining room once Lisa was at the table eating.

“What is that?” he asked. “Nintendo?”

“Ninten—ha! Oh man.” Wally hit something to make the screen pause and turned to face him. “Oh _man_ , you don’t even know how video games have changed. Isn’t Cisco telling you about the ways things’ve changed?”

“He’s mostly working and watching Lisa.”

“C’mon man, sit. Lemme introduce you to the twenty first century in style.”

The new controllers were whack, game cartridges didn’t exist because it was all somehow digital, the visuals on the screen were insane, they could ‘game’ with other people over the internet, and Lenny never wanted to stop playing. It was also _hard_. Pinball and asteroids at the arcade by the pier, even the games on Mick’s stolen Super Nintendo, all of them were pretty easy once you got the hang of it. The game Wally set up from him, some treasure hunting game with guns and maps, had little hidden secrets and treasures and three dimensional controls.

Lisa curled up beside him and he hadn’t moved by the time Barry came home from work, taking one look and laughing at him.

“What?” he drawled, tensing.

“Video games—I didn’t even think.”

“Cool, right?” Wally was grinning, laptop open and homework spread out now as he hung out and watched. “He’s not too bad.”

“Shoulda’ started him with pacman, not Uncharted.”

Lenny relaxed. “I already know pacman.”

“I bet you do.” Barry said it with a smile that was fond and Lenny looked back to the screen, suddenly nervous, tuning back into the game.

When Barry started to cook a proper dinner and Lisa went to watch and help, Lenny finally turned off the game and snuck upstairs ‘to read’. He didn’t really get a lot of alone time sharing a room with Barry and looking after Lisa, and getting off in the shower was getting old. He didn’t have any magazines or anything to help him get there in the shower. Actually, he didn’t have any mags in here either, but Barry must, right? He checked all the usual spots without turning up a single playboy or penthouse, getting frustrated.

What, was Barry such a saint he didn’t beat off? What kind of guy didn’t have even a swimsuit calendar?

He wondered if it was because he lived with his family still? Maybe he needed to hide stuff better. Lenny checked some of the less usual spots, trying the back of Barry’s closet. He found a box that didn’t have any mags but did have…

What in the—oh.

Lenny’s cheeks flushed red. He wasn’t an innocent by any stretch but that was… that was definitely a dildo, and he’d never seen one in person before now. Why would he? Next to it was a black bulb that must… oh. Yep. Barry must put these up his ass. He couldn’t figure out the goal of the weirdly shaped white one, didn’t want to think too hard about what the balls on the string were for, because really, if those _also_ went up his ass…

His body clenched in sympathy and he snapped the boxed closed and gave up trying to find any magazines. Barry must not need magazines. He just used…

Lenny really shouldn’t be thinking about that. He was hard as he could be and he told himself it wasn’t because of the… because… he _did_ not need that mental image, pushed it out of his head, and laid down on his cot. He didn’t need a magazine. Laying down still beat the shower, at least he could and let his toes curl, taking a little longer, even if he needed to hurry because he spent too much time looking around.

The room smelled like Barry. Maybe he was being crazy, but he felt like he could smell him, the cologne, the ozone. Lenny buried his face into a pillow and tried not to think about his smile, about him in that red suit that was tight on his thighs and other places, of the box and its contents, of—he tried to think of a gorgeous girl, then _any_ girl.

In the end he thought of no one, just his hand on himself, rushing a little, heart beating too fast, nervous and listening for anyone coming up the stairs. It didn’t happen, and he was done before long, arching up against the sheets of his cot.

He swallowed hard after catching his breath. What a trip.

He should go help with dinner. He was always cooking at home, he knew how. But he didn’t think he could look at Barry without thinking of that box yet. So instead he cleaned up and slipped outside for a smoke, sighing in the warm evening air.

He didn’t know if he missed home, the past, or missed being himself in the now. Something felt out of place though, like a missing tooth you’d poke at with your tongue. He kept pushing against it, against a feeling like he was stuck. Stuck here, in time. Stuck not knowing. Stuck with Barry, in that room, and whatever it was between them that looked like friendship but wasn’t, not really, not in the future. Stuck with _rules_ here.

He hated how this place made him feel like a child with more boundaries than he’d had since he was a kid. It pissed him off, a little. They wanted to know when he left, where he was going, how long he’d be, even if it was just to the corner store. He told himself it was for Lisa’s safety but he knew it was about him too.

They either thought he was a kid, or they didn’t trust him. He hoped it was the latter. Being treated like a kid was just an insult. Being mistrusted was common sense.

Not much he could do about it though. “My house, my rules,” were Joe’s exact words. “It won’t kill you to let us know what you’re up to when you leave the house, Lenny.”

Whatever. Maybe he’d take a walk later, steal some porn mags from the corner store so he had something tangible to think about next time, hide them somewhere since obviously Barry wasn’t about to go looking for them.

He finished his smoke, screwed a neutral expression back onto his face and went back inside.

 

[ … ]

 

It was Tuesday when Barry finally got another lead on Lady Fountain, got a call from Cisco while he was in his lab at work.

“What’s up?” he cradled his cell his shoulder and flipped through the report he was supposed to be reading.

“Your captain just called, Lady Fountain just whammied a few cops over in Keystone. The CCPD don’t have jurisdiction but he told me to pass it on to the Flash while he sees if they’ll let our taskforce take over the case.”

“That’s great! Text me the address, I’ll see what I can turn up in the meantime.”

He was off, then, quickly casing the scene and the surrounding area. No sign of Lady Fountain herself, but given that they only had a rough description of her and no name, she could’ve easily blended in with the crowd. Either way, Barry felt better knowing that she was at least still in the Gem Cities.

Cisco and Joe got transferred onto the case in the afternoon and they got a blood sample off the two affected detectives for Caitlin. One of them was closing in on retirement, the oldest of the victims so far, and that was promising for Caitlin to reverse-engineer Fountain’s powers.

He told himself he was excited at progress on the case. Lenny sure seemed to be, a renewed glint in his eye asking for details when Barry got home that night. He couldn’t stop himself from frowning and reminding the younger man not to get his hopes up.

“If it was that easy to fix, Caitlin would’ve been able to do it with just your and Lisa’s blood samples. You still probably have to wait this one out.”

“I _know_.”

“Well good.”

Lenny’s scowl turned cold.

Barry felt something gnawing away in the pit of his stomach. Crushing Lenny’s hope wasn’t exactly his goal. Not really. He didn’t _want_ the siblings stuck like this. He just… might be dreading what was going to happen when they grew back up.

“I’m sorry.”

“Just telling it like it is. I got it.”

He nodded slow and reached for his beer. Maybe he should put more effort into tracking down this meta.

 

[ … ]

 

That night, Barry woke up with a jolt. He was disoriented, suddenly awake and not knowing why. It was definitely still the middle of the night. It was far from the first time it happened, bad dreams a frequent occurrence, except he normally _knew_ it when he’d had a nightmare. He didn’t _feel_ like he’d had a nightmare though so what—

Then he heard it. A soft moaning sound, shifting sound. Was Lenny… no, it didn’t sound like that. It sounded… wrong. Pained. He sat up sharp in the dark.

“Lenny?”

He heard it again, another almost-whimper but Lenny didn’t answer so he definitely wasn’t awake.

“Crap.” Barry clicked on the lamp. Lenny was sweating through his shirt, head turned to the side, body too rigid as he tossed and turned. Barry moved off his bed and crouched on the floor next to his cot. Part of him wanted to let the nightmare run its course but it looked bad, bad enough that it was probably gonna get worse before it got better.

“Lenny, hey, wake up,” he shook him gently and it was enough. Lenny gasped in air and jolted up, sitting, arm pushing Barry away. “Hey, hey, you’re okay, you’re okay.”

“I—what—Barry?” It looked like he was taking a second to orient himself, fingers suddenly clenching the fabric of Barry’s tank top. Then he sniffed, “ _shit_.”

And Barry was confronted with the very real image of Leonard Snart with tears in his eyes. They didn’t _fall_ , he blinked them hard and fast away, but they were _there_. Snart had shot his own father without so much as a wet blink.

“Lenny,” he put his hand on the other’s shoulder tentatively, and realized with a start that they hadn’t actually touched since Lenny had tried to give him the world’s most awkward blowjob. Lenny leaned into it though, fingers relaxing on Barry’s shirt until his hand fell away entirely, slumping forward and accepting the comfort.

“I didn’t mean to wake you. It just happens, some nights.” His words were directed at his hands, opening and closing over fistfuls of blankets, and Barry couldn’t help it, he moved to sit next to him and hugged Leonard. To his ultimate surprise, the other actually melted into it, wrapped his arms around him and held tight, breathing in deep.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, rubbing his fingers up and down Lenny’s back. His breathing was slow but not totally even, yet. It was too long for a hug but too awkward and upright to be called cuddling. Lenny tucked himself into his neck and after a minute, started running his fingers rhythmically up and down Barry’s back, along his spine until he pulled away.

“Sorry. That was—”

“Perfectly fine, Lenny.”

Lenny glanced at him for a second then away. “Right… How much longer do you think I’ll be like this?”

Barry shifted so his legs were off the side of the cot. “I don’t know. Two weeks, Caitlin figures.”

“I hate being 19. I’ve always hated being 19. And 18. And 17. 17 was the worst.”

Barry laughed a little. “I think everyone hates being a teenager. I did.”

Lenny let out his own laugh, a quiet dry sound. “Maybe. Does everyone hate being 43?”

“I don’t know… is that what you were dreaming about?”

“No, just… being trapped. Feeling stuck… But there’s nothing to go back to, is there? What I remember is 25 years ago.”

Barry winced. “Yeah. I guess that’s… true. But I think you’ll feel better when you’re back to your normal self.”

“Maybe,” he agreed. He was staring at the window. “I don’t hate 2016. Miss my old life but… it’s not so bad, here. That’s not it. Video games’re way better.”

Barry grinned and nudged him with his shoulder. “How about the company?”

Lenny glanced at him with a little mischief in his eyes. “Ehhh, it’s alright.”

They laughed, breathing easier, and Barry moved back over to his own bed.

“Any chance I can have a smoke if I blow it out the window? The porch is all the way downstairs.”

“Pushing your luck, Lenny,” he replied with zero heat. “Just this once. Don’t want my room to smell like tobacco. Though it _might_ beat the smell of teenage musk.”

“Not a teenager.”

“Still a musker.”

Lenny lit his cigarette and Barry watched him lean against the window frame to smoke it, blowing it out into the night air. He wondered what the hell he was doing, but only in an absent sort of way. It was the middle of the night and he was exchanging banter with Leonard Snart, laughing with him, hugging him. It had a sort of lazy, quiet quality to it, despite the way it started. Easy. Comfortable.

Something in his chest ached. He pictured the man in front of him but older, shoulders more filled out, hair closer cropped and greyer. Voice a shade deeper but just as teasing. Making jokes, smiling at him in a way that was… maybe not happy. Just left of happy, too sardonic still. But something.

He shouldn’t miss something he never had, but suddenly he did.

“Hey Lenny?”

“Mm?” he blew smoke out the open window.

“When this is all over… I know I can’t really hold you to any of the things you say when you’re like this, but since I know you’ll remember… I’d like to be your friend.”

Blue eyes glanced over to meet his. Lenny flicked his ash. “I can promise, after this you’ll definitely be a friend of mine.”

Barry wanted to tell him not to make a promise he’d never be able to keep, but it wasn’t worth the argument. Lenny liked to think he was the same person in two decades as he was now. And it was mostly true. But the last thing he wanted was to be Barry’s friend.

“Okay.”

 

[ … ]

 

Thursday night was family game night. They were bringing out ‘classics’ with Lenny and Lisa there, or so Joe said, and Wally was promising that there _would_ be cup stacking at some point. Lenny honestly couldn’t figure out what could possibly be entertaining about stacking cups but Wally was adamant.

Joe put some tunes on the record player, and Lenny had to laugh. “I still can’t believe _vinyl_ made a comeback.”

“Vinyl never stopped being cool, Lenny.” Joe settled in on the chair and Lisa promptly sat on his knee. They were on a team, which really meant Joe held the cards and let Lisa pick which ones they would play.

“It really did. Even I don’t use a turntable. What’s wrong with a tape deck? Or digital—Cisco showed me his music collection on his computer.” Not that he liked most of it, but still.

“Tape deck?” Joe was laughing, “oh man, you’re like a new hipster.”

“A what?”

Iris laughed, “don’t worry, Lenny, no one will ever confuse you for a hipster when you grow back up, I promise.”

He looked back at his cards, trying not to frown. They all did that, except Wally. Joe less than the others but Iris when she was around, Cisco and Caitlin, Barry… they all still dropped comments about him when he was older, comparing him. As if he wasn’t the same person. As if he _was_.

It was starting to grate, and he didn’t quite know why.

“Draw two,” he laid the card with a challenging look to Barry, whose turn was next. The other groaned.

“Remind me never to play Uno with you and Iris at the same time again.”

“What about me?” Lisa piped up, grinning behind the cards Joe was holding.

“You, I would play with any day.”

She beamed and Lenny smirked a bit. “Just wait until she beats us all.”

She didn’t win the game after all, Iris did, gloating about it just a smidge, mostly directed at Barry. Lenny’s chest tightened, eyebrows drawing together watching them laugh, how easy they seemed to flirt.

“Hey Barry?” he asked, going for cool and uncaring.

“Hm?” Barry turned back toward him. They were sitting together on the couch, Iris on one of the chairs pulled up around the coffee table.

“Wanna watch a movie, after Lisa crashes?”

Barry looked surprised for a half second, then smiled easily. “Sure man. You pick something out.”

“Why don’t you show me one you like?”

“O… kay. Hey Iris, you wanna stick around?” he turned back to her and she glanced at Lenny. He looked away, resisting the unfair urge to glare her down.

“I’m okay, I think. I should edit my next piece before bed anyway.”

He tried not to feel too triumphant, but it was there in his chest anyway.

 

[ … ]

 

Barry made sure to pick a movie Lenny wouldn’t have seen before. He’d learned that comedy was relative, so put on Drive, a movie with enough art and violence to hopefully keep the other man interested. He did extract a promise that Lenny would pick next time though.

It felt comfortable but he still felt nervous. He couldn’t place why, except that he hadn’t stopped dreaming about Lenny and it was enough to make him feel guilty. That and, despite everything, they didn’t actually spend _that_ much one-on-one time together. All the time they did spend felt charged, like middle of the night conversations, or education about gay rights and human rights. Powerful.

This was… almost harder, because it was easier. But he told himself to get out of his head. Stretching out and watching a movie was pretty innocent, and probably a good idea, a chance to just chill.

Lenny relaxed enough to throw his legs out over the couch, dropping them on Barry’s lap. He carefully didn’t look at Barry when he did, and Barry, after a moment of hesitating, dropped a hand onto Lenny’s shin and settled in.

Neither of them said anything. Barry was pretty sure he was reading too much into it anyway, his own crush suddenly on overdrive, the desire to massage Lenny’s calves and do a lot more than that dancing in the back of his mind. But he kept himself in check because he wasn’t about to freak out the person relying on him. So he shut up and watched the movie, completely sans leg-groping.

 

[ … ]

 

Saturday came around. After two weeks now, Barry was almost getting used to Lenny in his room. Not quite, but the lingering sense of surprise every time he opened the door and remember his room was being shared had disappeared.

Some things were impossible to get used to, though.

Barry knew young men could smell—hell, he’d been a teenager, it was no surprise—but he didn’t realize just _how_ unique and invasive the smell could be, now that he no longer emanated it quite so bad. It was just a human musk that seeped into a space without any seeming tipping point from ‘normal smell’ to ‘human stench’.

Okay, it wasn’t _that_ bad. It was just noticeable. With him and Lenny both living in his room, it was getting to be a bit much. Barry ran a lot, and didn’t always shower before he crazed. Some of this was on him, he knew.

So in the afternoon when he had a free hour and Lenny was hanging out downstairs, he opened the windows wide, grabbed some Febreeze, and set about cleaning. He stripped the sheets off both their beds (wasn’t the first time since Lenny took up residence there) and dropped them in the laundry, changed the pillow cases, started a washer load for their clothes, and started cleaning out all the nooks and crannies.

Which was how, refitting a new set of sheets onto his bed, he noticed something poking out between his mattress and the frame. It looked like paper, and he ran his hand along it, catching on the plastically feel. Curious, he pulled it out and discovered it was a magazine—actually _three_ magazines and they were—

Oh.

 _Ohhhhhh_.

Oh this was—it should be embarrassing. It _was_ embarrassing. But not for him. Lenny should be mortified. Because this was _sad_. It was 2016 and the guy was stashing porn magazines under the mattress? Barry couldn’t help it. He tipped his head back and laughed. And laughed. He could barely bring himself to leaf through them but when he did they were so cringe-worthy—good god, _why_ —he just laughed harder.

Which, unfortunately, brought an audience upstairs. An audience of one. That one being Lenny. Who looked, standing in the doorway, a bit like a deer in the headlights if that deer could be both humiliated and angry at the same time.

Barry almost doubled-over laughing at his expression. Which wasn’t kind, but it was kind of hard to stop, and he must’ve been a bit too loud about it because Lenny was stalking in and grabbing the magazines from his hand with the kind of self-righteousness that could only be mustered by embarrassment. Obligingly, Barry struggled to keep himself in check.

“It’s not—not what you think—ha, heh, oh go—I swear its—” he giggled again at Lenny’s range of expressions, the tips of his ears pink, jaw set.

“Just because _you’re_ too wholesome to use mags when you work your joystick doesn’t mean—”

“Whoa, no that’s not—did you just call your dick a _joystick_ —oh wow, no that’s burned into my memory, I can’t—okay, not laughing, not laughing, just—Lenny, I—” he had to take a breath and still himself, calm down, take in Lenny’s guarded expression, and then start all over.

“I’m not laughing _at_ you for having porn. Everyone has it. Or not everyone, but yes, even me. C’mon, I’m not _that_ wholesome, you really think—never mind. I’m laughing because those?” he waved at the magazines, “are so old school it’s really really, uh… I don’t even know what to call it.”

Lenny’s eyes narrowed.

“No, seriously, it’s cool. I just haven’t seen anyone, er, get off to mags in like, um, a while” ever “but whatever floats your boat, man. Just put them back under the mattress and uh, we won’t ever have to talk about this again.”

“What—”

Barry stilled, since he was about to leave. “Yeah?”

“Then… what do people use now? There’s no video stores so I know they can’t be renting tapes, and…”

“Oh. Oh shit of _course_ you don’t know.” Barry slapped a hand to his forehead. “I didn’t even think—ah crap…” This was sorta his fault, in a weird way. He should’ve said something. But how?

Lenny gave him a look, waiting. Barry swallowed. “They use the internet now.”

“O- _kay_ …how?”

He winced. How not? But then… “It’ll be a lot easier if I just…show you...”

He wasn’t exactly looking forward to showing this, but now that he’d brought it up, it would be unfair not to. And if he didn’t give him a tutorial, he didn’t even want to think of what corners of the web he’d wind up in (or what viruses he might acquire if he just tried to google ‘porn’).

“Show?”

“Just… close the door, okay?” Barry was already starting to sweat at this prospect and Lenny looked dubious but closed it and came over to the bed. Barry pulled out his laptop from his bag.

“So uh, most people just one of the _many_ free websites. You have to pay for really good or exclusive stuff or to get rid of ads, but the free stuff,” does the trick? Works wonders? Gets you there? “is good enough.”

“Right…”

He was doing his damn best to be clinical about it, this was too weird otherwise.

“First thing is to open an ‘incognito’ tab. Just… do it. I don’t want to know what sites you’ve been on.”

“Mmhmm.”

And weirder by the second.

“Just promise me that when you age back up you will never make fun of me for this or even remind me that this happened.”

Lenny both scowled and smirked in a bizarre meeting of expressions. “Scout’s honor.”

“As if you were a Scout.”

There, a proper smirk. Barry caught himself grinning too. Then he typed in the safest and easiest to remember porn site he could think of.

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s all—that’s _free_?”

It was suddenly incredibly awkward, as if it hadn’t been already. Pictures of naked people having sex splashed all over the page could have that effect, so he started to rush. “Okay, rules: any extra tabs or windows pop up, you close them immediately. Don’t click ‘yes’ or ‘ok’ on any popups or you’ll download… shit you don’t want to download. Don’t click the side ads. Don’t click the top bar ads. Don’t click anything that looks like an ad. Keep the volume off unless you put headphones in. And… stay away from the creepy shit, okay?”

“Creepy shit?”

Barry made a noise in his throat. He wasn’t about to explain to Lenny to stay away from things like bestiality and the darker corners of the internet. He wasn’t liable to run across anything horrifying if he stayed on the site Barry showed him.

“I’m… you know what, you’re an adult. Just memorize that website and don’t leave it open when you’re done.”

“Wow.”

They sat there for a second. Then it clicked. He’d just introduced a 19-year-old to free explicit porn. People having sex were all over the screen. There was gonna be exactly one thing on Lenny’s mind. “Oh hell, I’ll just… I’m gonna go do laundry. The door has a lock on it.”

He slipped out before Lenny could respond. The less he thought about this, or about how hard he was getting in his own jeans, the saner he would remain.

 

[ … ]

 

Lenny was a little overwhelmed by just how easy it was in 2016 to watch strangers have sex. It was almost off-putting until he found a longer video with a bit of a faux storyline to it and then it was over almost too quick, too sudden. Videos were _way_ better than mags.

And then he was embarrassed. Barry had found his stash of mags (but no wonder he didn’t have any) and knew _exactly_ what he’d been up here doing.

Except, beneath the undercurrent of shame, the thought almost made him warm all over again. Barry knew what he was up to. Barry had showed him this. Barry looked at videos like this, sat on this bed (he was still sitting on Barry’s bed, using _Barry’s computer_ —oh fuck—), and he couldn’t help but conjure up the image of Barry sitting in this place, legs spread, fist around his dick, pumping it.

Shit. He shouldn’t be thinking about this.

But it was only a few minutes later and he was hard all over again, and not only a little. He clicked another video. Something with anal. His stomach felt tight, almost flushing at the prospect but it was still a woman, he was still getting off to a woman. Except he was thinking about the box of toys hidden in Barry’s closet, about how Barry must like things up inside him. He swallowed, feeling hot all the way down his chest, wondering if it felt good? It must, for Barry. For guys like that.

He glanced at the video and thought about being in her place and Barry behind him, of Barry in this spot with him, his hand on Lenny’s dick instead, those lips—

Lenny bit his lip and came a few short minutes later, Barry’s mouth and body chasing circles around in his brain. He was flushed to the roots of his hair and holding his breath until it shuddered out of him with his orgasm.

He wasn’t supposed to think about Barry. About men. Even in the future, even if it was _okay_ , even if Barry was gay, or bi, it still didn’t mean that Lenny could—

He cleaned himself up in a hurry, burying the thoughts, and went back downstairs with a book to read on the couch. Lisa made brownies in the kitchen with Iris while Barry looked over something Wally was working on for school. Barry caught his eye and smiled like they had a secret they were sharing and Lenny’s heart skipped a beat. He smiled back, a little too shy but he couldn’t help it, and then buried his face back in his book.

 

[ … ]

 

Guilt started to gnaw away at Barry after the weekend. He spent a few hours at the lab Monday night with Cisco and Caitlin, trying to get back to basics without so many other people in the lab for once, broaching the topic of Lady Fountain.

“We’ve been so distracted with the Snarts we’ve barely spent any time actually trying to track down the lady who did this to them.”

“Same thing happened with Caitlin was a teen,” Cisco offered. “And there was just one of her.”

“Well we should re-prioritze. You know how mad Snart’s gonna be if he comes back to himself and realizes we didn’t even _try_ to stop the person who did this to him.”

“Or, y’know, we should track her down just because witnesses say she’s a scared meta on the run who isn’t trying to hurt anyone?”

Some of the witnesses, after aging back up, had suggested she maybe hadn’t de-aged them on purpose. She was a bit of a mystery, really.

“…that too.”

“Y’know you’ve been awfully busy with the Snarts recently…”

“What’s your point, Cisco?”

Caitlin glanced between them and sighed. “I think what Cisco’s trying to say is… you’ve been… almost, happy? Recently. Less… stressed?” He winced at that. That was… one word for how he’d been, the month after they finished off Zoom, after Harry and Jesse went home. After his father—

He was getting better but…

“And we’re happy about that,” she continued in a rush, catching his expression. “It just seems like you’ve been distracted. In a good way? But also like maybe you’d almost rather that Leonard and Lisa… stay this way?”

“You’re—you guys are kidding me. I’m saying we _should_ track her down.”

“For Snart.”

“For—” he threw his hands in the air. “If this is about my crush—”

“Your _what_?” Caitlin stopped up short.

“Dude you have a _crush_ on him?” Cisco’s jaw was hanging.

“I—if that’s not what…” he glanced between them.

“We’re just worried your head’s not in the game man, that you’re trying to distract yourself from grieving and—what’s this about a crush now?”

“It’s not—it’s just a little—Joe said I have a soft spot for him and I mean, he’s an attractive guy but obviously I know it wouldn’t work—”

“Barry he’s 19!” Caitlin seemed affronted.

“I’m talking about when he’s 43!”

“That is _not_ any better.”

Cisco was rubbing his temples and muttering quietly, “you did not just admit you’re hot for Captain Cold.”

“It’s not a big deal, guys.”

“At least this explains why he’s the only thing you talk about when you’re here.”

“And why you keep spending your evenings at home instead of patrolling,” Cisco added.

“And why he bought them all those nice clothes,” she pointed at Cisco.

“Not to mention stuff from before—you heard Iris’s version of Snart showing up at Christmas?”

“That’s—c’mon, that’s enough.” Barry scowled because _really_? “Guys he’s—look it’s nothing—it’s dumb and pointless and I know that so can we just focus on finding Lady Fountain?”

Caitlin frowned. “He doesn’t feel the same way, does he?”

“We don’t need to have this conversation.”

“Oh we are already having it, dude.”

He glared at Cisco. “Snart at 43 thinks I’m a nuisance and Snart at 19 is relying on me too much for me to bring it up so look, it’s pointless. But I’d seriously like to track down the meta that did this to him so he’s less inclined to ice me when he grows back up and remembers some of our _supremely_ awkward moments.”

“How awkward?” Cisco asked, too devious.

“You don’t want to know.”

“Oh I do—”

“Stashing porn magazines under the mattr—”

“ _That’s_ enough of that,” Caitlin announced, standing, while Cisco dissolved into a fit of almost-cackles. “Barry’s right that we should focus on finding this girl before too many more people get caught in her crosshairs.”

“Thank you.”

“And besides—it’s not like you’re really _serious_ about Snart, right?” she asked, far too innocently.

He hesitated.

“Oh no. Oh no no no. First Cisco and Lisa last year and now you with—”

“He’s not interested in me anyway. Not at 43, which he’ll be again in what—a week? Two weeks?”

Cisco leaned forward, “but if he was?”

Barry glanced away. “He’s done… some pretty awful things to you both—”

“And now we babysit him and his sister,” Cisco waved it away. “I forgave Lisa. If he’s the one, then I can forgive her brother too.”

Caitlin sniffed. “So long as you don’t fall for Mick Rory, Barry.”

He laughed, a little dry and strangled. “Thanks for the support, guys.”

 

[ … ]

 

Sometimes, Barry slept shirtless, and just in his boxers.

It was a bit of a problem for Lenny.

He realized it pretty much happened on the nights Barry slipped in quietly after running, thinking Lenny was already asleep, collapsing into bed. He’d been out looking for the metahuman who did this to Lenny last night, which he should be grateful for, but he was a little distracted by Barry stripping off his shirt and falling into bed when he was telling that to him. When he woke up in the morning to head to STAR Labs, Barry was still laying there, passed out, blankets rucked down to his waist, leg half out as he laid spread on his back, chest and abs on display.

He had a constellation of moles down his front and side and Lenny’s eyes tracked each one, itching to touch.

He almost did and had to snatch his hand back close to his chest. He wasn’t normally so careless, and his heart raced realizing he could’ve woken Barry touching his body.

It wasn’t fair. Two weeks ago he hated Barry and now he—

It wasn’t like this when Lenny passed out on the floor of Mick’s room or vice versa. Sure, he’d maybe looked a little too long at Mick’s arms once or twice, but there was never an accompanying pain in his chest when he held himself in check. Never his heart going a mile a minute, a flush pushing itself up his cheeks when he woke up from a dream he didn’t want to analyze too closely, with painful morning wood and a vague sense of longing.

He wasn’t supposed to _feel_ like this. He had Lisa to look out for and that was it. Barry was just the guy he was going to owe his life to, the guy who was too good to take the only thing Lenny had to offer.

He curled in on himself at the memory, still sitting in his cot. He had to look away from Barry, still shamed over it all, for new reasons each time he recalled it.

Barry was a hero, he’d never look at Lenny that way. He’d proved as much already, even if he was half-into men.

 _He has a crush on the older you_ , his brain punished him with the reminder. Except maybe he didn’t. Maybe Joe was wrong about that. And if he did, Lenny couldn’t figure out why, not after everything he’d done to the younger man. His mugshot from 2016 wasn’t exactly pretty. His hair was grey. He looked _old_. He _was_ old.

Old and mean. His eyes gave it away.

Lenny sighed and forced himself off of his cot, kept his fingers to himself and moved over to the closet to pick out some clothes for the day, trying to keep himself quiet and not stir Barry awake.

By the time he was out of the shower and dressed, he knew he was running just over four minutes behind schedule. He slipped down the stairs calculating how to make up the time only to happen across Joe sitting on the couch, the morning news on TV quietly, Lisa sitting patiently at his feet. He was braiding her hair.

Lenny’s heart softened a little at the sight. Neither of them had noticed him yet, backs to him, but Joe was humming quietly. And Lisa was more still than he almost ever saw her, posture perfect. A laptop was open on the coffee table with a tutorial for braiding hair on it, Joe copying the movements.

“Gotta say, this style is a new one for me.”

“Iris said you used to do her hair in the mornings?”

“Iris’s hair and your hair and pretty different, darling. Her braids were in different styles.”

“C’n you do my hair like hers was?”

“Nah honey, this style is perfect for your hair, okay?”

Lenny hopped down the past couple steps. “You’ll look like a princess, Lisey.”

Joe didn’t startle, but Lisa squealed, “Lenny!”

“Wondered when you’d come down for breakfast.”

Lenny glanced to the side. He still wasn’t always sure how to react to Joe’s comments. On the one hand, he _got_ Joe. The man was a _cop_ , one who wasn’t necessarily shy about what he thought of Lenny’s future crimes. But on the other… he felt halfway between a parent and a friend. Maybe an uncle, not that Lenny had any, but he had guys around who were close enough. Joe took them in and cared for them and drove them places like he wanted to look out for him, but he didn’t comment on Lenny having beer and liked to talk about books and the 80’s with him, about being a latchkey kid, about (good) music and everything in between.

And then he did things like this for Lisa. Learned how to braid her hair. Lenny barely knew how to help her beyond a ponytail and still couldn’t braid to save his life. He was trying. Lisa cried when it was ugly and he felt awful, wished her mother was around some days. Wished his own mother was around some days. Anyone, really. But here was Joe without a wife doing what a mother should anyway, and doing it slow and perfect, holding up a mirror for Lisa to examine the back.

For a bitter second, Lenny wished Joe actually was their father.

“I need a smoke before I eat.”

He rushed out to the porch. He was out there for seventeen seconds before he could even think to fumble a cig out of the pack, just breathing in the cooler morning air.

Joe wasn’t his father. Joe was just a cop with a guilt complex. Lewis was his father, however bad he was, he was still Lenny’s father. He was still—

He got bad enough that Lenny felt the need to kill him, one day. Bad enough to hurt Lise, to put a bomb—

But what if—

It must’ve been his fault, somehow. Lisa shouldn’t be involved in this anyway. He should’ve found some way to keep her safe, some way to—

He had to resort to killing his dad. He didn’t want to turn into that person. He didn’t know how not to. He already had.

He put out the cigarette—it was making him sick—and sat down hard, almost slipping onto the stairs to take a seat.

He counted the seconds and then minutes until Joe came outside to tell him it was almost time to go.

“Can I not?” It was twisted and sour-sounding, out of his mouth before he thought better of it.

“Not go out today?” Joe was skeptical but Lenny was already scurrying to his feet.

“I don’t mean leave me at your home.” He hadn’t had solo free reign of West’s house and didn’t expect to. The man was a CCPD detective and Lenny was anything but. “When Barry leaves, he can lock up ‘n I can take a walk, head to a park.”

Joe was shaking his head and hand, not seeming pissed off at Lenny dragging his heels all morning. “No, Lenny, it’s fine.”

“It’s… fine?” he narrowed his eyes a little, disbelieving.

“You need a day off from all the crazy ‘n I get it. A day to yourself without worrying about Lisa too, huh? How ‘bout I make you a deal? I’ll drop Lisa off at the lab, but if you do leave the house, you send me a text so I don’t get worried if you ain’t around.”

He nodded, sharp. Still the kiddy gloves but Joe was a good man and wanted to keep Lisa safe. “Thanks Joe.”

“Don’t make me regret it.”

He nodded again, relaxing a little. Joe smiled. “Now come help your sister get her jacket on while I finish getting ready for work.”

 

[ … ]

 

Lying to Joe rankled somewhere in his conscience but he told himself it would be fine. He could handle himself and there was an answer he was dying for, had been dying for for over a week, one he couldn’t really get with Lisa in tow.

Barry was going looking for the metahuman who did this to him, so why couldn’t he go looking for the one person who might actually know him? Who might give him a different perspective on the past 25 years he couldn’t remember?

Finding Mick Rory wouldn’t exactly be a cinch though. The old bar Lenny first thought to go to for information was boarded up and look burnt out. Maybe… not a surprise, really. Mick had loved the place, after all.

Another wasn’t open during the day. He only had until Joe was back in the evening before to pull this off, he was sure, so he hurried along. Checked an old safehouse (a risk, to be sure) but found it empty, if vaguely lived in. Steered clear of the Families’ territories as best he could. He really wished Wally had left his car and not driven to school that day because this would be a lot easier if he wasn’t using the bus and walking.

But he made it, eventually, to a rundown dive he couldn’t believe was still open, even if it was operating under a new name. He’d only been there once before with his dad on a job but remembered it as a place that collected some of the seediest characters in the city, and either way was a good place for information or getting work. All watering holes tended to be.

He walked into Saints and Sinners with a sense of trepidation. He had a bomber jacket on over a nice shirt and felt overdressed for the place, but there wasn’t enough people there for him to really stand out, the happy hour crowd not really in yet.

He walked up to the bar.

“What’s on tap?” he drawled, leaning forward on his elbows. The bartender’s eyes, which had practically slid off him as initially intended, stopped sharp and sudden. He was 90% sure he was about to be asked for ID, but that was okay because he’d lifted someone’s at the library over a week ago.

“Why don’t I just give your usual?” she asked.

He stilled. He had a _usual_ here? No wait, the bartender could tell who he was? That was—shit. And how often was he here?

“Sure.”

She nodded and pulled out a beer with a blue label, popping the top and sliding it over. “I’ll put it on your tab.”

“Much obliged.”

She nodded, still tight around the eyes. Worried or about to do something dumb?

He sipped the beer and glanced to his side. There was a guy most of the way passed out at a table not far from him, some people playing a game of pool a little ways away, and a few over in the corner, having a quiet conversation.

“Might want to keep your eye on them,” she nodded their way and his eyes snapped back to her. “They ain’t fans.”

He nodded. “I’m that easy to spot, huh?”

She gave him a flat look. “I get that that meta got a hold of you but—you _get_ that you’re one of the most wanted men in the Gem Cities?”

Even she knew about the meta, jesus. “Right.”

She gave him a perilous look. “Wait here a minute, let me get their food.” She walked to the other end of the bar and disappeared behind a door. He sipped his beer and started to regret coming here. ‘Data purge’ or not, he apparently wasn’t likely to slide under the radar in his own circles.

One of the most wanted men, huh? He was almost pleased with himself.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. He checked it and realized it was already 5pm. Shit. The day really had whiled away. He ignored the call from Joe and shoved it away. He hadn’t got what he came here for yet.

He raised a finger to her on her way back from serving the table of men. He didn’t recognize them but made sure to keep himself out of their direct line of sight anyway. “Before I head out… I’m curious if you’ve seen Mick around recently?”

He shouldn’t have to explain who Mick was if he was so famous, right? She didn’t look confused, just calculating.

“Got this out for you,” she handed over a napkin. “He came calling. He’s over in Keystone.”

Lenny’s heart beat fast and sudden. No way. It was that easy? “Right.”

He slid a twenty across the bar and she took it without question, just a nod. He slipped out the door.

 

[ … ]

 

Being followed wasn’t really in his plan.

He was outside the bar and on the phone in no time, hearing the ‘ring ring’ with his heart up in his throat.

“’lo?”

Was that him? “Mick?”

“Who’s asking?” It sounded so _gruff_.

“It’s Lenny.”

“Le— _Snart_?”

He heard scrambling on the other end of the line and a curse before the sound got clearer.

“Where are you?”

“Near Saints ‘n Sinners. I got your napkin.”

“Where the hell’ve you been?”

“I…” he glanced around, and realized with a start that there were two men behind him, a block back. “I might have to call you back.”

“What is it?”

“Couple ‘a bogeys and I’m not packing.”

“Why don’t you have a gun you idiot?”

Lenny frowned. Like he’d fly one by West. He’d thought of stealing one but the level of disrespect to his host was a little too much for him really, after everything.

He glanced behind him, still with the phone to his ear. It was the guys from the booth. He hadn’t been as subtle as he’d thought.

He sped up.

“I think they’re Santini.”

“’Course they are. Half the city’s been looking—”

His phone buzzed in his hand, alarming for a second because it was next to his ear, and made a sound. He glanced at the display, hurrying now. He was getting another call. Barry.

He checked behind his shoulder. Definitely were starting to hustle. Shit. He was so screwed.

“Snart?” he heard Mick’s voice over the line.

“Later.” He ended the call, needing to focus. The second he started to jog or panic, he was a goner. He needed to bolt hard and fast as soon as he saw an exit. His phone vibrated in his hand again, palm starting to sweat. There was an alley to the left—dead end or maze he could lose these guys in? Maybe one day he’d know this neighborhood but right now—

He moved to bolt.

He didn’t get the chance.

 

[ … ]

 

Barry sped to the GPS signal of Lenny’s phone in frustration. What the hell he was doing near Saints and Sinners and _why_ —

Why were there two men following him?

Leonard Snart was more of a beacon for trouble than Barry himself, some days.

He didn’t even bother with the guys. Just sped forward past them and swept Lenny off his feet and two miles away in the blink of an eye, dropping them on a rooftop.

He waited a half second to make sure Lenny wasn’t about to throw up on his suit. He was clutching Barry’s arms, crushing his phone to one of them.

“I got him,” Barry said into his communicator before letting go of the button and focusing on Lenny. “What the hell are you—”

“Barry—where are—” Lenny looked around.

“Far away, but if you give me sec I’ll go back and—”

“No—” Lenny hesitated. His hands twitched and his thumbs ran over Barry’s biceps almost rhythmically. He was pretty sure it wasn’t about his arms. “No it’s—I don’t even know them. It’s fine.”

“They looked like—”

“I know. They probably were, but I don’t remember them.”

Barry frowned. “How many people in this city want to shoot you?”

Lenny laughed, a little brokenly. “You tell me.”

His gaze hardened. “You know what? I will. You have the entire Santini crime family looking for you, Lenny, and probably more besides—do you have any _idea_ just how dangerous it is for you to _waltz_ in to Saints and Sinners like it’s nothing?”

He might’ve been shouting, but he didn’t expect all the color to drain from Lenny’s face. He dropped his hands from Barry’s arms and stepped back.

“I—”

“Joe is freaking out. He called me at work to come find you, half sure you’d already got yourself killed or else held up a bank somewhere—”

“I wouldn’t—”

“We don’t _know_ that—we have no idea what you’re up to if you don’t tell us and considering where you did end up—” Barry stepped back and pushed his cowl down, turned away. He needed to calm down. He was way too worked up and he knew why. He was _scared_. Scared that both times he’d found Lenny on his own in this city, he’d been in a bad situation. Scared he’d almost been too late. Worried because he’d never forgive himself if something happened to Leonard.

He turned back around after he’d collected himself for a second, ready to sort this out. He wasn’t expecting the hard, closed off look Lenny levelled at him, completely shut in on himself.

“You done?”

“Should I be?” Barry asked, then kicked himself mentally for responding to Lenny’s anger with his own.

“If I’m not welcome anymore, will you still look after Lisa?” he ground it out with spite.

That tripped Barry up. “What?”

“I _said_ —”

“No you—you think—I’m not gonna—we’re not kicking you _out_ , Lenny.”

“I broke Joe’s only rule.”

“It’s not his _only_ —”

Lenny stiffened.

“No, you’re right, he’s gonna be pissed—but, hey, he’s gonna be pissed because he’s worried.” Barry’s voice dropped into something a lot softer. He knew this, had seen enough trauma cases at work, had lived his own. “Because he _cares_ about you, Lenny.”

Lenny was staring angry to the side, fists balled at his side, tense as a band about to snap. “Fine.”

Barry kept going, changing the angle.

“I mean it. No one is ever gonna dump you on the street because you broke one rule, Lenny—not in Joe’s house. You’re safe there, and you’re safe here. I’m only angry because I was scared, and because I don’t understand what you’re even doing here.”

He nodded and Barry got the sense he was only halfway listening, not taking it in. He sighed and stood up straighter. “I’m sorry, Lenny.”

His eyes snapped up to Barry’s. “For _what_?”

“For triggering you like I did.”

“What?”

“It—for spiking your—for making you think I was going to kick you out, for overreacting like I did.”

Lenny, getting a little more calm, looked mulish. “You didn’t overreact.”

Barry felt himself relax, “I did, a little. I freaked you out.”

“I’m not a pussy, Barry.”

He cringed, “don’t be an ass. I’m just saying—I didn’t mean to get that reaction. I didn’t want you to think we were so mad we’d kick you out. I just wanted to know what you’re doing here.”

His expression was dour, “I was looking for Mick.”

Oh. Well. That was… “Any luck?”

“I… no.” The other man shook his head. “Nothing tangible.”

If he was being honest with himself, he was relieved. Barry had never really ‘met’ Mick Rory properly and he definitely didn’t trust him, with either his own secrets or with a young and vulnerable Lenny, let alone Lisa. Maybe Lenny had known a young Mick, but he didn’t know the violent man that was Heatwave, and Barry didn’t know enough of what Rory would do if he saw his partner in this state. Especially if he found out just how much mutual understanding were between Leonard and Barry. It was most of the reason he hadn’t mentioned he could track Mick’s gun.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, because condolences of a sort felt in order.

Lenny shrugged. “It was a long shot.”

Barry sort of deflated, now that Lenny was safe and he understood. Worry was exhausting.

“I know… I know this sucks, okay? You’re stuck and it’s obvious you hate it. But please don’t just run off like that.”

“You treat me like a kid.”

“No we—” he rubbed a hand across his mouth. Did they? Joe probably did. He treated all of them like kids. Barry was used to it. But… “It’s not that we think you’re not mature, or able, or whatever. It’s that we know just how many people would take advantage of you not knowing who _they_ are. I deleted your records, Lenny, and the amount of files—the boxes of evidence? You’ve pissed off a lot of people. You get that we just want to protect you, right?”

“Sure.” He glanced to the side. “I guess. No one’s every really been so concerned about me coming and going.”

Barry felt winded for a second and wanted to hug him Not that he’d expect more from Lewis, but what about his mother? Anyone? But it would be cruel to ask, so he smiled at him instead, if a little tightly. “I’m not no one.”

Lenny looked at him, eye level, not far away at all. “Yeah. You’re not.” His voice was quiet and had a strange quality to it. “You’re… different, Barry.”

He didn’t know quite what to make of that, heart beating harder in his chest, the moment suddenly charged in an entirely new way.

“Lenny I—”

He was cut off by the sound of Lenny’s phone vibrating in his pocket, sharp and sudden. It jolted him and he took a step back, realizing he was just inches from Lenny. He still didn’t even know what he’d been about to say.

“It’s Joe,” Lenny scowled at it.

“Hand it over. I’ll deal with Joe. Then let’s head back, I still have to finish work for the day.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Less on the 'adjust to the future' side and more on the... actually existing in the future and dealing with how it's making him feel, this chapter. Letting himself relax his thoughts about men a bit, realizing he's got an attraction but not really ready to fully accept it yet, even if he's starting to acknowledge it, to take actions because of it.
> 
> And yay for slightly more plot, even if our meta hasn't really entered the picture yet. We'll meet her eventually, I promise.
> 
> And lol, not super creative of me just having Lenny stalked every time he heads to the wrong neighborhoods, but like... you don't just kill a mafia Don and declare yourself the new head of the city, basically, without pissing off a lot of people who won't forget it the next time you look vulnerable.
> 
> Anyhoo, I seem to be on a schedule of updating approximately once every 3-4 days, so I'll see you at the next update! Hope you enjoyed this, and remember that I melt every time I get a comment from you guys :)
> 
>  
> 
> ps) despite Barry's relaxed recommendation of free porn in this chapter (in deference to the fact that most people use free websites and Barry hasn't done *much* exploring of the internet himself, really), if you use porn and you can afford it, you should pay for porn in such a way that the money goes to the actual sex worker(s) depicted. Real people produce that content and deserve some compensation.


	5. Pigtail Pulling's No Longer Romance

_I’m with the Flash,_ he texted Mick later, safe in Barry’s home. Mick would be able to text, right?

_WTF Snart?_

He was pretty sure he could figure out what the initialization was for.

_I want to see you._

_How OLD are you_

He frowned at the phone. He trusted Mick with his life, but they weren’t… they weren’t like the West family. Rougher edges, more threats, more crude, fist fights. Just _different_. Being honest was a challenge.

_Does it matter_

_Fuck yes it does_

_I’m 19_

He had to wait a few minutes for a reply, staring at the pages of his book without reading them. Ultimately, the response wasn’t that satisfying.

_Fucking hell. K. where do I meet you_

_I don’t know yet. I’ll try to sneak out tonight or tomorrow. I’ll text you._

 

[ … ]

 

He got a helluva talking to from Joe about running off. But. That’s all it was. A talking to.

For a horrible second he’d thought the man was going to hit him. He tightened up, confused, because Joe had just _finished_ with his lecture and normally his own dad started with the fists and ended on words, not the other way around, but—

But Joe clapped a hand on his shoulder and met him in the eye and said, “okay?” at the end, soft and like he was checking in and Lenny was embarrassed that he stiffened up under it, too tense by a mile. Joe’s eyebrows shot up and Lenny knew he felt it.

“Peachy.”

He took his hand back from Lenny’s shoulder with a sort of sad look. “You had me scared half to death, you know.”

He chewed the inside of his lip, looking away, not sure why it made him angry. “I’m _fine_.”

“Well I’m not.”

Lenny’s eyes snapped to him.

“I’m never okay when someone I’m looking out for—someone I _care_ about, Leonard—gets themselves almost killed. ‘N I know you can handle yourself but so can Barry and I worry about him plenty, Iris ‘n Wally too. Feels like it happens every other week ‘round here someone’s staring down death, but it doesn’t get any easier on this old man’s heart.”

“ _You_ were… worried about me?”

“Of course I was, what kinda question is that?”

First Barry and now Joe. He looked down at his feet, still feeling a little stubborn. “Didn’t mean to get caught.”

“Well you did. You don’t know how recognizable your face is in some parts of town, 19 or not.”

“Guess not.”

“It’s water under the bridge—just _promise_ me you won’t go running off again without saying anything. Dealt with that enough when Barry was a kid.”

“Barry?”

Joe laughed, a little more relaxed. “Oh yeah, first time he ran off to Iron Heights, I almost had a heart attack. Didn’t get any better the first time he ran away and _left town_ —with a fake field trip permission slip and more. Didn’t realize he was lying till I got a call from the school. Damn near fainted.”

“Why? And why to _Iron Heights_?” Lenny couldn’t understand why anyone would deliberately _leave_ Joe West’s house.

But Joe’s laugh died and he looked a lot more tired all of a sudden. “He didn’t explain, did he?”

Lenny shook his head, and Joe sighed and ran a hand down his face. “You’re not the only unlucky kid who’s come through this house… Look, I gotta run out and get some groceries. Why don’t you come with me? We can chat on the way.”

 

[ … ]

 

Barry spent time with Lisa too, when he had a spare minute. He entertained her while Joe was out getting groceries with Lenny, convincing her to help him clean house by making a game of it. It didn’t work so well and they mostly made more a mess than ever, but he didn’t mind at all. She had a vivid imagination and no issue with giving orders, bossing him around like the best of them. There might have been a fort in the living room by the time Joe and Lenny got back, one that Joe looked at, shook his head to, and just said “I don’t—want to know.”

Lenny looked a little dumbfounded by it though.

“You made this for her? With her?”

“Sure,” Barry shrugged, having run in the groceries. Lenny was examining his structural supports, formed of sports equipment from the garage and a copious amount of pillows and cushions. “Not my first pillow fort.”

By the time the groceries were away, Lenny was inside the fort with Lisa, and Barry was being invited in by her royal highness for ‘tea’. He had to crawl on his hands and knees to get to a room where he could actually sit, but it was worth it.

Lenny was there, cramped up with his knees tucked close in, looking both nervous and devious and giddy.

“No Barry— _this_ is where you sit.” She pointed to a cushion next to Lenny. “That’s where the prince sits.”

“I’m the prince now?”

“Well _duh_.”

He laughed. Lisa was such a riot. “So what does that make your brother?”

She seemed to pause at that. “Umm. Uh…”

“How about the knight?”

“Yeah!”

“And you’re the princess?” Lenny asked.

“The _Queen_.”

Barry grinned. He’d been over this with her already. She was very adamant about being the queen.

“Lisa—” Joe called from somewhere outside the fort. “Time to brush your teeth.”

“ _Ohh_! Five more minutes?”

“You can spend more time in there after you put on pajamas and brush your teeth.”

“Awww—”

“Come on out.”

“ _Fine_.”

She huffed and turned to Lenny. “No taking over the castle, mister.”

He laughed, a full-deep belly sound that involved throwing his head back. “I promise.”

Barry was a little mesmerized.

“Good.”

Lisa crawled out her little hallway and Barry stretched his legs out into the space she was no longer occupying, sighing. “Think she’s coming back?”

“Eventually. She’ll want to stake her claim on it before bed.” Lenny was smiling. “Thanks for this.”

“It’s just a fort.” Barry felt a little weird taking too much credit for it.

“No its—she’s been… off, ever since her mom left. Hasn’t smiled this much in a long time.”

“ _Her_ mom—do you have different moms?”

Lenny started. Then laughed. “I guess you don’t know everything about me after all.”

Barry’s eyebrows rose. Did Lenny really think…? “There’s a lot I don’t know about you. Trust me.”

“Yeah. We have different mom’s. Mine’s—I’m mixed, mom was black. About the only good thing about dad is he’s not a racist.” He frowned then. “Or... wasn’t.”

Barry looked down. Right. “Sorry.”

Lenny shook his head. “Not your fault. But yeah. She’s gone. Lisa’s mom moved into the picture after… well, dad knocking her up was the final straw for my mom sticking around anyway. I was 12.”

“I always wondered why there was such a big age difference between the two of you.”

“Yeah well—I might’ve had another brother or sister but dad got shipped to Iron Heights when I was just a kid. He was… different before that. Came home and,” he looked down at his crossed legs. “Guess you know. Started taking me on jobs when I was 11.”

“ _Eleven_?”

Lenny smirked and held up his hands, wiggling his fingers. “Little fingers, good for wiring. Kept it up until I went to juvie at 14, met Mick. He looked out for me. Was the only person in my life who didn’t kick me out or leave me behind, really. That’s why…”

Barry’s chest was tight, partly for doubting Mick, mostly for what Lenny’d been through. He reached out and put his hand on Lenny’s arm.

“You’ve got me know.”

Lenny looked him in the eye, crystal blue and clear. He swallowed. “Yeah. I do.”

And Barry knew, by the hammering in his own heart, by how close they were leaning in, almost breathing the same air, that he was about to kiss Leonard. And he also knew exactly why that would be a terrible _terrible_ idea, much as every single fiber in his being was aching for him to do it. To lean forward, take Lenny’s jaw in his hands and pull him into a deep, searing—

He cleared his throat and moved back. He couldn’t. Not since—

For a moment, a memory of a terrified Leonard on his knees and talking about owing a debt to him swam in front of his vision. Barry couldn’t do that to him.

“I’m… gonna miss this, when you age back up.” He forced himself to say.

His lashes were so long when he looked down. “Always with me aging up. I’m sure I’ll miss it too.”

Barry felt the shift in mood and was disappointed and eternally grateful for it. “Well, that’ll be on you anyway. My offer of friendship is definitely open.”

“Yeah.”

Lisa came back a minute later, but Lenny didn’t smile as wide as before, and Barry missed it already.

 

[ … ]

 

Lenny’s heart thumped in his chest all night after talking to Joe, after coming to a pillowfort in the living room.

Barry wasn’t just some do-gooder hero. He was… something else. A do-gooder hero but not some suburban clean living normie. Not some apple pie life at all.

Lenny wasn’t quite sure what he’d thought the situation was, really, with Barry living with the West family. But he didn’t expect _that_.

There was probably something poetic he could say about it, if he were the poetic type, that his own mom left when he was near the same age Barry was when his mom died; that he killed his own dad in the same year as Barry’s was killed.

Maybe that’s why he had a soft spot for Lenny. Maybe that’s why _he_ was spending too much time getting closer to Barry, getting caught up in thoughts about him, things he wouldn’t dare consider a month ago. Maybe they really _did_ understand one another. People who walked through hell tended to. He and Mick always had.

Mick.

Lenny texted him in the dark of the room and told him he couldn’t sneak out, not tonight. There was no way he was going to get out without waking up Barry, who hadn’t been out for rounds and was tossing and turning tonight, restless in his shallow sleep.

He sighed in the dark, wishing he understood all this better. Wishing, almost, that he had more _time_ to understand it, to make something with it. Three weeks had gone by. It wouldn’t matter soon. He told himself it shouldn’t matter at all.

But it _did_ , more and more each day. He almost hated that it mattered so much. That understanding _Barry_ mattered so much. That his goddamn feelings were making this all matter too much. He felt trapped by them.

He was either going to have to let it go or else do something, and Snarts weren’t quitters.

 

[ … ]

 

Barry didn’t have to wait long after the pillow fort incident before kissing Lenny happened for real.

He came home from the next night of rounds late in the evening still thrumming with energy. Lenny was up reading and asked about his night, and it wasn’t long before Barry was regaling him with tales of his older escapades. He may have been embellishing a little bit, grinning, letting himself get caught up in the story of how he’d defeated Kyle Nimbus since it was a good one (and hey, Lenny knew all about the Darbynian crime family so it was relevant too). He even stood up to act it out and almost fell over since he wasn’t using his powers, still uncoordinated as ever when he wasn’t in the speedforce, and Lenny moved fast to help catch him.

“My hero,” he laughed when Lenny let him go, a little high on adrenaline and not thinking too much.

“You’re the heroic one, remember?” He said it like he was teasing, rolling his eyes.

“Uh huh. You could be too, if you wanted.”

“Don’t think I’m the hero type,” he drawled without heat, for once.

Barry was too jubilant for that old song and dance get him down. “One of these days, Leonard Snart, I’m gonna get you to play for my team.”

“Mm, and which team is that?” he arched an eyebrow.

“Team Flash.”

“Oh, named it after yourself? Little cocky, don’t you think?”

Barry laughed, “you’re one to talk, Mr. ‘ego writes checks his body can’t cash’.”

“Are you quoting Top Gun at me now?” His grin was wide and Barry never wanted him to lose that expression.

“You were the one who recited every line when we watched it.”

“I didn’t think you liked it all that much.”

“I liked how much you liked it.”

Lenny smiled, eyes sparkling, “that so?”

“Mmhmm.”

They were close, standing by the dresser in his room. In one instant Lenny was there, all arched eyebrow and fluid movement, and the next—

Lenny’s lips were on his. Oh. _Oh._

Oh god, he was—

Fuck, he was kissing Lenny. _Hard_. Hands on his face pulling him in, deep and just—

He shouldn’t be—his lips were so soft, smooth, parting for Barry and just—

This was an awful id—but his tongue was slick and in Barry’s mouth and more practiced than he expected, not shy at all and _oh_ —

God he tasted like mint and smelled like winter and spice and Barry never wanted to stop kissing him.

And Lenny wasn’t hesitant in the least, now that his mouth was on Barry’s. He had Barry pressed back against the dresser, hands making fast work of getting under his pajama t-shirt, sliding around his waist, cool against his bare skin and—

“Who-oa,” Barry pulled his mouth back, breathing heavy. “Lenny—”

His lips were already on Barry’s jaw, trailing down toward his neck, “ _sshhh_.”

“No ‘shhh’, jesus Lenny, we should talk about this.” It would be a lot more effective if Barry wasn’t laughing as he said it, ticklish, and if he didn’t punctuate that with a gasp when Lenny’s teeth grazed his pulse point.

“Mmm, talking’s not sexy.”

“Talking is _very_ sexy, actually, because communication is— _god_ _Lenny_ ,” his hands were skimming his skin, blunt fingernails driving him crazy before finding his chest in no-time flat, thumbing his nipples. His body automatically tilted into it. “You don’t waste time.”

Lenny sucked his neck. He was gonna leave a mark for sure. “No bra, I like it.”

Those thumbs were rubbing in circles and Barry let out a strangled chuckle, “not a girl.”

He felt Lenny bite a little too hard at that, felt him tense, a sobering reminder that Lenny had definitely never done this with a guy, that he was—

Barry swore quietly. “Shit. Wait, stop.”

“Mm?” Lenny did, thank god, stilling to an even halt, hands moving down to somewhere safe but he didn’t step back.

“You’re gonna kill me for this.”

“For stopping? You’re right about—”

“No I mean—older you. I can’t believe—Lenny we can’t _do_ this.”

Barry pushed him back to the distance of arm’s length, trying to collect his scattered thoughts. Lenny already looked like he was closing down, getting stiff even as Barry dragged a hand through his hair and tried to settle his libido.

“Because I’m not… because we’re both men?”

“No, I—you know that’s not my problem. I don’t… I don’t think that’d be an issue for older you, either.”

He hesitated, then glared harder. “Then _what_?”

Barry winced. All defense, all sharp angles. Was it the gay thing, his first time kissing a guy, or just the awkwardness of the situation?

“It’s a bad idea for you and me, like this, when you’re this age and—”

“You don’t—you’d rather him than me. Right. Got it.”

“What—no—Lenny, it’s not that it’s— _you_ don’t like me like this. Not when you go back to normal. Hell, you might even be with someone already—”

He snorted, “fat chance of that.”

“I’m just saying—”

“Oh I got it. Loud and clear. You care more about what some older version of me might think about this than what the me right here and now thinks.”

Barry tugged harder at his hair. “No—that’s not—I’m trying to respect you.”

“Right.”

“I _mean_ it.”

“You’re always comparing me to him. About how we’re so different. I get it—he’s the one you’ve got it for and I’m the consolation prize.”

Did he really just refer to himself as—

“Lenny you’re—you’re _great_ —you’re not some second place trophy. I just… look, I’m trying to be realistic about this. In a week you age up and stop worrying about this but that’s when I have to actually _deal_ with the consequences.”

Lenny glanced to the side, face tight. “You’re not attracted to me at all, are you? _He’s_ tried to kill you how many times and you still would rather worry about what he wants than live in the present like I _have_ to.”

“You can’t—don’t be jealous of _yourself_.”

“I’m going out for a smoke.”

“Lenny—”

He grabbed his pack off the dresser and was out of the room before Barry could think of anything more to say.

“Fuck.”

 

[ … ]

 

Lenny felt humiliated in such force that it almost pricked at his eyes. He took long, calming drags off his smoke and tried to convince his hands not to tremble a little in either anger or whatever else he was suppressing.

Twice by the same guy. He really had it bad, didn’t he? Throwing himself at Barry. How pathetic. Maybe he was all those things people said. Maybe he was like Barry, playing for both sides of the fence, too damn greedy for his own good. Maybe he was a dirty little—

He breathed smoke out, feeling so much better with the little bit of home between his fingers. He hadn’t had one earlier, after brushing his teeth. Probably a good thing, not to taste like an ashtray while kissing a goodie-two-shoes like Barry.

He really kissed a guy. He really did it.

One who didn’t want him. Or at least, not this him.

He didn’t know what the older him had that he didn’t. Lenny was younger, looked better, hadn’t hurt anyone Barry cared about (yet).

Maybe it _was_ dumb to be jealous of himself, but it didn’t feel like _him_. The man in the mugshot from 2016 felt like an entirely different person except that they shared some incidental (identical) genes. He didn’t have that guy’s memories or life. That man was someone else.

Someone everyone knew better than Lenny did.

He texted Barry to say he was taking a walk and not to wait up. As good of a time as any to do this.

He pushed himself off the porch and texted Mick.

_You up_

_Been waiting_

_Wanna come meet me in the suburbs?_

He texted the name of the school and park not too far from Joe’s house and waited on playground equipment. When a shitty old beater pulled up, he put out his smoke and slipped into the passenger seat.

“Christ you’re young.”

He had to appraise Mick in the low light. There were lines on his face.

“You’re old,” he drawled.

He laughed, “yeah Snart, that’s what happens.”

He grinned a little. Mick was thicker and his voice was a little lower, eyes a little more tired, but he was still _Mick_. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

“Thought you were dead for a while there.”

“Just laying low.”

“In the suburbs,” Mick scowled at their surroundings outside the car in disdain.

“Not my call. I got Lisa to think about.”

Mick did a double-take. “ _Lisa’s_ with you?”

Lenny tensed and nodded. “Yeah.”

“Shit, she must be—”

“Six. She’s more affected.”

Mick whistled out his teeth and sat back to cross his arms. “Right.”

“You still know her, right?” Lenny had only introduced them once and it turned out Lisa didn’t even remember it.

He gave him a careful look. “You really don’t remember. Yeah, I know Lisa. Going on twenty years now.”

He nodded. Okay. He and Mick were friends still. Thank god. “She’s the reason I’m stuck here.”

“I take it that means you’re not coming with me?”

Lenny frowned, looking down at his nails. “Can’t leave her behind.”

“How’d you get here?” he waved at the scenery outside the car.

Lenny hesitated. He got the impression that he was the _only_ one who knew Barry was the Flash, inside his circle. He didn’t actually know if he’d shared that with Mick or not.

“… it’s a long story.”

Mick snorted. “’Cause it’s the Flash, right? Heard he nabbed you from Ricky and his boys.”

Ricky… Lenny didn’t know the name, but he could guess. “Yeah. Him.”

“Figures he’d live in a place like this.”

 Lenny wanted to defend Barry, to say it wasn’t like that, that he lived with his adoptive dad still, any why, but it wouldn’t sound any better. He just frowned.

“Guess so.”

“So what’d’you want from me, Snart?” Mick’s voice had a sort of growl to it. It made him wonder.

He pursed his lips and leaned back in his seats. “I’m missing 25 years, Mick. I wanna know who I _am_ in that time.”

Mick snorted. It wasn’t the reaction he was expecting. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

“I mean it.”

“So do I.”

Lenny didn’t have the patience for Mick’s attitude. Not for someone else to compare him to the old man he’d become.

“D’you get that I’m _stuck_ here, in this year, relying on newspaper clippings to tell me who I am? Found out I killed my dad and I’m some _supervillain_ and I’ve done time more ‘n once and you’re the only one I even know who—”

“Hey, hey—Snart. Jesus. Forgot how jumpy you used to be.”

“I’m not _jumpy_.”

Mick harrumphed. “Prickly as a fucking pear, too. You _sure_ you don’t wanna come with me? C’n hide Lisa low until this wears off.”

He closed his eyes and pictured Barry. He swallowed, thinking about what had just happened. Kissing him. Being pushed away.

Did he want to leave?

“Me—the older me—do I ever sort my shit out?”

Mick actually laughed, low and rumbly. “No. Maybe. Which shit?”

He couldn’t explain. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter.”

“What doesn’t?”

He shook his head, no way he was explaining.

“Fuck you’re more annoying now than later, didn’t know that was possible.”

“You’re a real prize yourself, old man.”

Mick snorted but didn’t comment, just stretched himself out more comfortable in the front seat.

Lenny wondered if he oughtta risk it. Before he did anything crazy again, he wanted to _understand_ … “Do you ‘n I ever…”

“Ever what?”

It was 2016. Things were different now. Mick was his friend. Mick would—he had to be safe. Had to be. “Y’know.”

Mick gave him a flat look. “We do a lotta things, Snart, you’re gonna have to be more specific.”

He shook his head. This was such a stupid idea. “I gotta go.” He moved to.

“ _Oh_ —that shit. Jesus, Snart, you’re talking about getting off?”

His hand was on the door and he stilled, so tense he almost shook. Mick laughed again.

“Fuck no, buddy, not the two of us.”

This was a terrible mistake.

“This about your thing for the Flash?”

He hadn’t moved, but now, finally, looked back at Mick, one hand still on the door. “What?”

“Figures. Always thought you were hot for Sparky’s ass.”

“I’m not—”

“Gay?” He said it with a grin and Lenny wondered if he should get ready to start swinging. He didn’t know if he could take Mick, the way he looked now. “No, you’re not. Still like pretty boys all the same. Never cared, Snart, still don’t.”

He picked at something between his teeth while Lenny’s heart soared into overdrive. He sorted it out. Thank _fu—_

“But I hope you didn’t call me out here just for a pep talk about your crush.”

Lenny dropped into an easy glare, feeling steadier, easier, even if his heart was hammering. “I _called_ you because you’re the only person I remember since my dad’s dead and everyone else in this city wants to kill me.”

If he expected Mick to look contrite, he’d have been disappointed. “Newsflash kiddo: those aren’t bad things. You’re happy about them. Your old man needed to go and everyone who wants to kill you is scared of you. You rule this city.”

He did? “I do?”

Mick broke out into a grin. “You do. Captain Cold.”

Finally. _Finally._ A sense of relief. This conversation had him spinning in circles, trying to catch up, but finally they were some good ones. “That’s all it took? A fancy gun?”           

“You were halfway there before that. But then we took out Don Santini ‘n you got a group of metahumans on your side, made both of us untouchable. Not that too many tried before that.”

He’d killed the _Don_ of—and oh. That group, the ones he’d betrayed Barry to free. Apparently there were parts to the story he hadn’t really got.

“I see.”

Mick sat back with a sigh. “You’re really not coming.”

“I can’t leave Lisa, and I can’t take her… wherever we’d go.”

“So how long till you’re normal?”

“I don’t know. Soon, I think. It’s been three weeks.”

“No shit.”

He sighed. “I… should get back. But I’ll be in touch.”

“Uh huh.”

Trust Mick not to try and drag things out. Lenny stepped out the car, then leaned back in. “And Mick… thanks.”

“Yeah, buddy. You got it.”

He ruled this city. That was something. It got better.

It got _better_.

He walked back and slipped into the house. When he made it to the room, he could tell Barry was still awake but he climbed into his cot anyway and didn’t say anything. Barry must’ve got the hint that he didn’t want to talk because thankfully, he didn’t either.

 

[ … ]

 

Barry was kicking himself after the kiss and the feeling didn’t go away quickly. It had felt so _good_ , so easy, a perfect spur-of-the-moment kiss that had had them both smiling until—well…

He wasn’t sure if he was more mad at himself for letting it happen in the first place or for having the presence of mind to remember why not to follow through.

Things felt tense for two days. Barry knew his mood was all over the place. Down like it was before Lenny and Lisa showed up, but more on edge again, worried about making another mistake. Their routine didn’t change, but he could feel the strain between himself and Lenny. The way they moved around each other in the kitchen, the sudden lack of what Barry only now realized was an easygoing comfort.

He didn’t know how to fix it. At this rate, both young Snart and old Snart were bound to be pissed at him for eternity. And it definitely didn’t help any of the tension between them, having indulged. Didn’t help him _or_ Lenny.

For his own part, he spent way too long staring at Lenny’s lips. He knew he did. It was hard to tear his eyes away. He just wanted to—

For Lenny’s part, he moved too close to Barry whenever he had the chance, like it was all a challenge. Squished next to him on the couch when Wally joined them to watch the news, moved much closer than necessary when he helped clean the kitchen, making sure their arms brushed. Was he trying to drive Barry crazy or was he just doing it to watch him squirm?

At any age, Leonard Snart was always going to be an asshole, at least.

It came to a head two nights after they first kissed. Barry came in to change for bed and Lenny not only didn’t look away, he sat up to watch him change. Barry felt his cheeks heating when he realized he had an audience, halfway through putting on pajama pants.

“Really, Lenny?”

“Y’know,” he drawled as if he’d been waiting for an opening. “I don’t get what you see in him.”

“You mean in _you_?”

Lenny shrugged. “Sure.”

Barry scowled and pulled on a soft cotton shirt, mindful of the eyes on his torso. “It’s not him versus you. It’s really—not.”

“Then what is it?”

Barry sighed and sat down on the side of his bed, resisting the urge to drag a hand through his hair. “Lenny you’re _nineteen_ —”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“I’m too old for you.”

He snorted, “says the guy crushing on a 43-year-old.”

Barry winced. “That’s different.”

“Not really. I’m an adult. Eight years is barely anything. I’ve been looking after myself since I was 14 any way.”

Lenny was… right. In the sense that he didn’t _feel_ too old for him. He kept saying he wasn’t going to crush on Lenny at this age—to Iris, to Caitlin and Cisco—and it was easy at first because Barry _wasn’t_ interested in most people more than a year or two younger than him. He definitely wasn’t interested in college co-eds just figuring out what adulthood looked like, the gap in what they wanted and needed was just too big.

With Lenny, it didn’t feel like a gap at all, not one that mattered, just the fact that Lenny’s views were from the 90’s, but he was learning fast. Hell, Barry was the one still living with a parent, here. But—

“There’s still… differences, like the difference in our levels of _experience_ —”

“I’m not a virgin.”

“I—that’s not what I was saying.” He didn’t know if he’d expected Lenny to be or not. Probably not. Just because Barry didn’t have sex until halfway through college didn’t mean everyone waited that long. Come to think of it, he really wasn’t surprised. “But there’s still a difference in where we’re coming from.”

Probably. Maybe. He wondered if he was just saying this because it felt like what you were supposed to say, and not actually what he felt at all.

“I don’t see why it matters if you’re— _are_ you into me?”

“I’m…” Barry pushed back his hair and wished he could take a breather. “It’s complicated.”

“It’s sex. I don’t see what’s so complicated about two people getting off together.”

He blinked. “Well for starters, I wasn’t just talking about having sex, Lenny. It’s more than just sex to me. And second, I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

Lenny’s eyes went surprisingly hard. “You aren’t taking advantage. No one gets to do anything to me without my say-so. I came on to you, this is all me.”

“You’re still relying on me—”

“You made it clear you don’t want sex in return.”

That was important. Barry looked into his eyes to see if he could find any trace of obligation there, but couldn’t see any. Only determination, calculation, frustration.

He nodded. “Okay. I’m glad that’s not—what this is. But there’s still…”

Lenny came closer and sat on the bed next to him and Barry’s heartbeat went through the roof all over again. “Tell me.”

He looked at Barry. Barry looked at him. He looked so much like… like himself. And that honestly _was_ the issue, wasn’t it? At least a big part of it. “Lenny… in less than a week, you’re gonna be 43 again and you’re gonna hate me if I take advantage _of the situation_ to sleep with you.”

Instead of being mollified, Lenny nodded slow, pursing his lips. He looked so much like Snart, tight, almost angry movements. Even his voice, when he drawled, kind of coldly, “So it’s not about _me_ at all. You like me just fine. I’m old enough. We’re good to go. Except it’s still about him, about what he’ll—what, think of you?”

Barry looked at his hands, feeling confused.

“Why does he get more’ve a say in what I do than me?”

Barry should probably say something more intelligent, but all he could think was “…what?”

“I told you, this whole time, you keep _comparing_ me to him. You all do. And now you don’t care if I wanna sleep with you and you wanna sleep with me, you’re just worried about whether _he_ wants to sleep with you. Why does some guy who’s not even here right now get choose if you want me or not?”

Barry’s eyebrows were climbing, “hey, it’s not that simple. You’re still _him_. He’s still you. What if, oh I don’t know, you’re my nemesis and can’t stand the thought of sleeping with me?”

“That’s him! This is _me_. Don’t I get to make my own decisions?” he was quiet and intense in his frustration, at least, his bitterness.  

“Your decisions affect him—you.”

“If he can choose for me, if you care about his opinion, you should care about mine too.”

Barry dragged his hands down his face. Lenny was right. But he was also wrong. It wasn’t that simple. “Lenny, I like you, I do. And maybe I’m attracted to you, at any age. Maybe I can’t help that. But I don’t want to make a decision that’s gonna make you hate my guts at any age either.”

“My reality doesn’t matter to you at all, does it?”

Barry felt winded. “Of course it does. It’s not like these past three weeks didn’t happen. They _definitely_ matter. You matter.”

“Then why does what _he’ll_ think matter here, in the present? Isn’t this just between me and you? If he’s into you or anything, who cares? That’s his issue. His attraction isn’t in the room here.”

Barry smiled mostly in exhaustion, “you’re really serious about this, aren’t you?”

He was surprised. A few weeks ago Lenny was denying attraction to men and now he was pushing this, hard.

Lenny glanced at his hands, jaw stubborn. Barry took the bait and asked, “what is it?”

“He’s already got his life, his story, _whatever_. This could be something I have that ain’t his. I’ve never done it with…”

“A guy?”

“Mm. ‘N I don’t know if I ever do. Probably. But maybe I have to, for a job. Maybe I eventually do anyway, and it’s awful. I don’t know if I ever got up the courage, that other me, or what it was like. But you’re… different. Than anyone else I’ve met.”

Barry swallowed thick, taken aback. “You want your first time with a guy… to be with me? _That’s_ what this is about?”

Lenny shrugged, let out a little hum.

“You know it probably won’t _really_ be your first time—”

“Not for him, but for me. When this wears off ‘n I turn back into him and remember two first times—this one’ll be better.”

He was—he didn’t know how else to put it—flattered. And unsure. And fuck it, _tempted_.

“Lenny…” he didn’t know how he planned to finish that sentence, because Lenny looked at him, all intense eyes and focus, leaning into his space. Barry let out a shaky breath. He could feel the heat radiating off Lenny, knew without a doubt that the other man wanted this and meant it, not for any of the wrong reasons this time.  

Lenny captured his lips again and Barry let him, cupping Len’s cheek. It was less ferocious and more fervent this time, panted breaths. He pressed his tongue into Lenny’s mouth and revelled in the sound he made, taking charge this time, moving his hands down Lenny’s side.

It wasn’t long before Lenny climbed on top of him, straddling him. Barry’s arms were around his narrow waist and he slipped them up the back of his shirt, felt his way up Lenny’s back and the smooth and rough patches of skin, the scars he’d caught glimpses of over the month. He was tugging on Barry’s shirt and he let him, let Lenny pull it over his head and leaned back to let him kiss his chest, hands exploring. His own hand finally indulged in running over his shorn hair, cupping his neck and when he felt he might go crazy with the way Lenny was teasing his nipple, he rolled them over in a fluid motion that caught the other man by surprise.

“No sex, not right now.” He kissed Lenny’s lips when he said it, a poor consolation.  It didn’t help that he could feel the straining outline of Lenny’s cock pressing against his hip, right next to his own.

“Why not?” Lenny looked up at him and Barry could barely tear his eyes away from the shine on his lips.

“Too much, too fast.”

“I want—”

“Me too, okay? I want it too. But I care enough to not rush in tonight, not like this.”

Lenny’s eyes lit up a little at that. “Okay.”

“We can…” Barry leaned up on his elbows and rolled his hips down into Lenny’s. “Kiss until we both go crazy, and then I can get you off with my hand?”

“ _Shit_ ,” Lenny said it like a plea and Barry captured his lips again, desire and propriety warring away inside him. He wanted to touch Lenny everywhere. He wanted to touch _Snart_ everywhere. And that was at least part of the problem. If Lenny were nineteen forever, Barry might honestly already be dating him. Might be able to really _be_ with him. Figuring out the awkward age difference and making sure it worked out right and was healthy. Lenny was worth that. Worth corrupting in all the best ways and building up too.

But he’d be Snart again in a few days and Barry wanted him too, wanted _that_ too. Wanted the snarling, angry man with grey hair and remarks that could cut him down at the knees. Wanted _this_ man, then and now. And it was too much tonight, thoughts swimming with both of them, trying to figure himself out, to go further than this. He needed to be present with the man under him, not a different version of him.

But he wasn’t going to drive him insane with want, either. It wasn’t much to rock against him as they kissed, and—with permission—to slip his hand beneath the waistline of Lenny’s pajama pants to take him in hand. God he was _thick_. Barry was tempted to drag the pants down his body and get a good look, but it felt salacious when he was already here, kissing Lenny’s neck gently, mindful not to leave any marks, just enough to drive him closer to that edge.

He knew, thank god, how to keep quiet, just little gasps and not much else, biting his fist to keep any louder moans back. It was far more erotic than it should have been, watching him arch and bite hard into his hand when Barry used just a little bit of vibration on him to get him there and made him come undone.

He wiped his hand while Lenny dropped back down to the mattress with a panted sigh, eyes blinking up at Barry in a sated, cat-got-the-cream sort of way. “That was impressive.”

He chuckled, “I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“Can I—”

“My body is gonna hate me if I don’t get off, but I don’t want you to do anything you’re not—”

“It’s just a hand, Barry.” Lenny actually rolled his eyes at him and pushed Barry down onto the mattress.

He _did_ pull Barry’s pants down enough to get a good look, and Barry didn’t miss that he did seem nervous, if determined. He laid more alongside Barry to take him in hand and chuckled, “the angle felt wrong when I was facing you.”

Barry let out a laugh that he had to stifle before it turned into anything louder since Lenny had got a rhythm going and tested his grip. Barry wasn’t too shy to direct him and tell him what he liked, but ever since he got his powers, what he liked had more or less become any stimulation at all. It didn’t take long before he was biting his lip and rolling his eyes back, till Lenny was whispering “fuck” next to him and it dragged his orgasm out just that much longer.

He sighed when it was done, feeling more relaxed (and nervous, waiting for the other shoe to drop) than he had all month.

But nothing bad happened. They just cleaned up and Lenny passed out in his bed instead of the cot. Aside from the hammering of Barry’s heart reminding him that this was going to blow up in his face, everything up to and including the warmth and comfort of Lenny sleeping beside him was perfect.

 

[ … ]

 

Waking up next to Lenny was… so nice it almost hurt. Warm and fuzzy feeling, full of sleep and just—

The younger man’s alarm went off and he scrambled up, trying to silence it in a hurry, but Barry was halfway awake before that and now fully. He rolled over to smile sleepily at Lenny.

Who looked nervous and tense and that woke him up.

“Hey…”

“Morning.” Lenny’s voice was a little strained.

“You okay?”

He tilted his head to the side, already masking that nervousness under a more calculating look. “Didn’t mean to crash in your bed, is all.”

“Oh. You can, if you want? If it beats the cot.”

“… it beats the cot.”

Barry grinned, relaxing. He hadn’t wanted to push, had picked those words carefully. “Last night was okay, right?”

“Aces.”

“Good. Why don’t you get up and shower? Don’t keep Joe waiting.”

“Yeah.”

Barry waited a bit but headed downstairs anyway. Joe was just getting downstairs, done his run and showered already, and they chatted about their upcoming day when Lenny came down and accepted a coffee from him (which Barry was still half-convinced he didn’t even like, but drank anyway). Lisa followed him down a minute later and Barry helped her out with some cereal while Lenny went off to pack her bag for the lab.

“You two getting along again?”

“What?”

“I got eyes, Barry. Even Wally noticed.”

Wally was already on his way to class, a dreaded 8am lecture, so Barry couldn’t confirm if that was true or if Joe was just leaning on him to make his point.

“Did he now?”

“Uh huh. You two had a tiff, right?”

Barry shrugged, really not ready to talk to Joe about this. Mostly because he was sure Joe would be horrified to learn Barry was up there with his hand down Lenny’s pants last night. The question was whether he’d be more horrified because of who Lenny was, or because Barry was seducing a nineteen-year-old.

“Well whatever it was, seems better now.”

“Yeah we’re—things’re good.”

“Good timing, too. He’ll be back to Snart soon, y’know.”

His stomach dropped, just a little. “I know.”

He wasn’t sure if he was hoping for or dreading it now.

“Barr?”

“I think… I’m gonna miss them.” He looked over at Lisa, sitting in the dining room and eating Lucky Charms, humming to herself and looking at the back of the box, some game there.

Joe leaned in the doorway next to him. “Me too, son.”

 

[ … ]

 

Sometimes Barry dropped by the lab during the day. Not often, but he’d zip by on his lunch break or after catching a criminal, a grin plastered on his face.

This time, the smile he shot Lenny, the little bit of a wink when no one else was looking?

Yeah, he was a dweeb, but Lenny might have it bad for him.

It didn’t hurt that he picked up Lisa and spun her around and ask her about what she was doing that day with Caitlin.

She was Caitlin’s little helper, really. Starting to talk about how she wanted to be a doctor one day, which seemed to make Caitlin smile like 1000 watts, even when Lisa was beating her at operation (the doctor was terrible at it, so bad it was a little alarming). “You’d make an amazing doctor, Lisa. But maybe an _even better_ racecar driver.”

Lenny glanced at her while Lisa lit up at the thought. He wondered just what Lisa got up to when she was older, that Caitlin would make that suggestion. Then he put the thought aside, like he always did. Lisa growing up was hard to think about, knowing where it led.

For his own part, Lenny spent his days either out walking in the park by the lab, checking out all the cool defunct areas of the lab they had closed off, helping Cisco build things and test things, or reading. When Barry showed up though, it was like everything centered on him. Everyone returned to the cortex, focused on Flash business, and let themselves get wrapped into his orbit.

Lenny wondered if he knew, realized, that he was the sun.

It made him remember, after Barry left… how temporary this shit was. How Barry was a hero, he was a villain, or at least a criminal, and he wasn’t even supposed to be 19. Mick looked old. Lenny _was_ old.

He didn’t have much time left at 19. He didn’t have much time left as _him_.

 

[ … ]

 

Iris was there in the evening, helping make supper. Lenny still didn’t know how to act around her, not really, not outside a group. She was so damn beautiful he found himself biting his tongue when she asking him to pass the cutting board. It was so dumb. He wasn’t even _into_ her. It didn’t matter.

“What’s the craziest thing you’ve learned about 2016?” she had to ask. She was good at making conversation.

He considered it for a second, stirring the soup. “Gotta be somewhere between a black president and superpowers.” He wanted to say gay marriage, but it still felt wrong to talk about, somehow.

Iris just laughed though. “Okay that’s fair. It was _high_ time for Obama, though. The superpowers were a shock to everyone.”

Lisa skipped into the kitchen to complain about being hungry. Dinner wasn’t for an hour, so Iris snuck her a cookie, ignoring Lenny’s imperious glare.

“Just one, okay?”

“What’d’you say, Lise?” he drawled, giving in. Lenny knew better than to fall for that charm, but Lisa had the entire West family giving her cookies and chocolate pretty much anytime she decided she wanted some.

“Thanks Iris!” she was beaming.

“Just remember it when you’re grown up and give me an interview,” Iris laughed. Lenny frowned. Lisa seemed enchanted.

“We c’n do one now!”

“Oh can we? While I’m cooking?”

“Uh huh!”

“Okay, Lisa. Tell me about… you.”

Lisa cocked her head and launched into a short list that included her birthday and her favorite dolls and her best friend from school. Iris nodded along, more focused on cooking. Lenny was only half listening.

“What about your family? Lenny?”

“Lenny’s not my best friend, he’s my best brother. And there’s my daddy, and mommy, and Lenny’s mommy, but I never met her.”

Iris started, “you have different mothers?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. He wanted to remind Lisa not to forget about grandpa, but also didn’t want to remind her about him since he died.

“You look like Lenny’s mom!” Lisa chimed in, liking the attention, tugging on Iris’s sleeve. “She was pretty like you.”

“Was she?”

That was directed more at Lenny, he was pretty sure. He glanced at her. “She left when dad got together with Lisa’s mom. Still got a few photos somewhere. Or maybe not, in 2016.”

“She was black?”

“Yeah.”

“When was the last time you saw her?”

He glanced at Lisa. She still missed her mom, who wasn’t around all that often anymore. She’d throw a tantrum sometimes, if she got reminded of it. “Been a few years. Since the court hearing. She didn’t have much luck—dad never wanted her to work, made it hard when he went to the Heights, and harder when he got back. She wanted me to come with her but… Things were complicated, I had to… stick around.”

“Some things about you suddenly make sense, Leonard Snart.” Iris put her hand over his. “My mom left when I was a kid too,” she offered. “I didn’t see her again until… until we found out Wally existed, less than a year ago.”

He hadn’t realized, “Joe didn’t raise Wally? He wasn’t here?”

Iris laughed, her own hands back in her own space, “oh no, Wally’s a new addition around here. Not unlike you.”

“And me?” Lisa pouted, and Iris leaned down to her level.

“Of course Lisa, and you too.”

 

[ … ]

 

Barry came home from his rounds to the sight of Wally and Lenny veggie out to late night TV. He had to smile.

“Anything good on?”

“Nah man, just Colbert.” Wally moved a pillow to make room for him on the couch. He dropped in between the two men.

“How were rounds?” Lenny asked.

“Couple’a muggers, one car chase—those are always entertaining. Nothing major.”

Lenny was tapping his fingers against his thigh rhythmically, a little too stiff.

“You wanna—”

“You oka—”

“Sorry—”

“You first—”

They both stopped. Barry was uncomfortably aware of Wally sitting next to them on the couch, snorting at their awkwardness.

“What were you gonna say?” Barry ventured after a moment.

“Was gonna ask if you wanted to turn in?”

Ah. Subtle. Barry glanced at Wally out of the corner of his eye. He seemed mostly enraptured by the TV.

“Sure. An early night’s a good idea. You good, Wally?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you in the morning.”

They slipped up the steps and went through the motions of brushing their teeth. Barry realized he was nervous, almost thrumming, coiling a little tighter with every glance he caught Lenny sending him.

He’d thought about last night all day. It was driving him crazy, the itch to kiss the other man. It was a terrible idea, probably the worst, and he’d let himself get caught up too fast. This wasn’t anything—couldn’t be. They weren’t together. He couldn’t even gauge what Lenny was hoping to get out of this.

But he wanted all of it anyway.

“How was your evening?” he managed to ask, aiming for casual as he slipped back into the room after brushing his teeth. Lenny looked as tense a she did.

“Fine. Lisa was having a mood. Decided she misses home again, and her mom. Got overtired and threw a tantrum.”

“She okay?”

Lenny shrugged, “she’s a tough kid, she’ll be fine.”

“You get her down?”

“Yeah.”

He nodded and sat on the edge of the bed. Lenny sat next to him. He inhaled.

“You okay?”

“I’m good, Barry.”

“You wanna?”

“More than anything—”

It was all the confirmation Barry needed to kiss him. They both breathed into it, excited and sharp. Lenny showed he really was good, leaning into Barry, climbing into his lap not long later, straddling him again, like the previous night. Barry groaned against his mouth, licking into it, and had to keep himself in check. His hands were already on Lenny, sliding up his shirt, aching to feel skin. Lenny was already pulling at his shirt, running up his chest. He was like an octopus, all hands.

Barry pulled back to catch his breath. “Maybe… maybe we should slow down.”

Lenny kissed his neck, “don’t wanna.”

Barry laughed and tilted his head to give him better access to the spot on Barry’s neck he was starting to suck. “You’re the boss.”

“I wanna do it. Tonight.”

Barry sucked in a breath, not only because Lenny’s teeth grazed his pulse point. “It? You mean…”

“Sex, yeah.”

“There’s no rush, Lenny.”

“There is to me.”

Barry stilled. Shit. It was… His hands moved to caress Lenny’s sides, making him shiver. “… I don’t wanna think that way,” he said quietly.

“I don’t have that luxury, Barry. I wanna do this.”

“I don’t want to rush you.”

“You’re not. I’m rushing _you_ , if you’re ready for—”

“I am, for sure. That’s not the issue here. Are you sure—”

“I want you to do me.”

Barry didn’t miss the way he’d said it, like it was rehearsed, how tense his thighs suddenly went around Barry, how he clenched his fists in Barry’s shirt.

“You…” Barry took back a hand to drag it through his hair. “That’s. Quite the proposition.”

Lenny swallowed. “I told you I wanted it to be you.”

“Yeah and I—I want that. I just wanna make sure you want it for the right reasons.” And not because of why Barry suddenly wanted to rush, afraid he might never get this chance again. He crushed that thought into a back corner of his mind along with all the other ones reminding him this was a terrible idea.

“You _do_ want to?”

Barry almost rolled his eyes. “You think?” He leaned back on his elbows, making his ‘situation’ a little more obvious. All Lenny would’ve had to do to feel it was roll his hips.

“So let’s do it.”

Barry wanted to swear. Instead, he swallowed. “I’ve gotta let you know—if this is something we do, we don’t have to do it _that_ _way_. You don’t have to bottom.”

Lenny’s hands shook, still bunched into his shirt. “Christ, Barry, you’re awesome. I—does it feel…”

Barry reached forward and caressed his side again, getting his other hand under his head. “It feels good every way.”

“You like taking it?”

Barry smiled, a little cheeky. “I _really_ like taking it.”

“I… I’ve given it before. Not with a guy but—”

Right. A ‘first’ for Lenny. “We can do it that way too. I like giving.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. C’mere.”

He pulled Lenny down with him, and rolled them over. Barry kissed his neck, sucking slowly and Lenny arched against him with a whiny noise. Barry ran his hands down Lenny’s sides and pulled his shirt off. He was beautiful. A little lean, leaner than he would be later in life, with a single tattoo that Barry kissed. Then he lost himself in kissing the younger man everywhere, his chest and stomach, his scars, his ribs, thumbs rubbing gentle circles around his nipples while Lenny writhed against him and bit back his moans, biting down on his fingers of one hand, the other buried in Barry’s hair.

He wanted to take care of Lenny and make him feel better than anyone else ever would, could. Fiercely possessive. He wanted to ruin Lenny for anyone else, even if he knew that made no sense, that this wasn’t really—

He pulled back for air, hands on Lenny’s hips, mouth on his chest.

“You good?”

“ _Yeah_.”

“You’re shaking?”

“You just feel…wow.”

Barry grinned and kissed his nipple. “D’you want to slow down?”

“No. Not at all.”

Good. He reached for the button on Lenny’s jeans.

“Can I blow you?”

“ _Shit._ I’ll cum.”

“That’s the idea. It’ll help you relax.”

“Barry, shit, Barry, please.”

He shifted down until he was hovering over the seat of Lenny’s pants and then he couldn’t help but give into the temptation, mouthing over his dick still constrained by the jeans. Barry gripped his hips to keep him still after he bucked up, mouth hot and wet and making a mess.

“Please, please, _fuck_ I’m so—”

Oh fuck that was hot. Lenny barely holding himself back. He popped open the button and pulled aside the ‘v’ of the zip, mouthing over his underwear, tight and wet with precum and saliva. Lenny was gasping, bucked up against him again, hands suddenly in his hair and Barry sucked the tip through his boxers.

“God—gonna— _gonna_ —”

Barry moaned low in his throat as Lenny came. He could just barely taste it through the fabric. Lenny shuddered through it, convulsing under Barry’s hands, fingers twitching in his hair, finally relaxing into a whimper.

Barry leaned back surveyed his work with a grin. It hadn’t been his _plan_ to get Lenny to cum in his pants, but he wasn’t complaining either.

“Sorry, that was—”

“It’s fine. It was hot.”

“A little quick…”

Barry shook his head, already peeling Lenny out of his pants. “Nah. I always cum fast too now, thanks to my powers.”

Lenny leaned back, catching his breath. Barry cleaned him up and then slid out of his own pants. “Still good?”

“Golden.”

He chuckled. “Let me know if that changes.”

Lenny spread his legs, a little tentatively. “I can take it.”

“Take—you know it’s not gonna hurt, right?”

He leaned up on his elbows, “it… isn’t?”

Barry scratched the back of his head. “Maybe a little, but not if I do it right. Not if we take our time. It’s a stretch but it won’t _hurt_.”

“Okay.”

“You’re sure—”

“ _I’m_ fine, Barry and if you ask me again I’ll sock you one.”

Barry laughed and leaned down to kiss him lightly. “Fine then.” He stroked his hip. “Give me a second to get some supplies.”

“Supplies?”

“Lube, condom.”

“Right.”

Barry refrained from hesitating again. Lenny was inexperienced, not unsure.

He got back to the bed and laid down alongside him, down to his own underwear. “This is gonna take a while to get you ready… I might cum once before we go, so it isn’t over as soon as it begins.”

Lenny snorted, “I know the feeling”

Barry kissed him, done with talking again, eager. Lenny didn’t seem to mind, wrapping his arms about Barry, and he felt high after a minute, lost in the extreme amount of skin contact, half on top of Lenny, chests pressed together. He reached down, massaged his hip, then found the lube and popped the cap off.

“Tilt your hips for me.”

Lenny pulled in a shaky breath when Barry’s fingers found his entrance, teasing.

“Can I?”

“Yeah.”

 _Fuck_ he was tight. Barry got a single finger in, sliding it in and out, teasing deeper until he found Lenny’s prostate. _Then_ he started to relax, gasping when Barry rubbed against it, spreading his legs a little wider. Barry moved down his body with kisses until he found the inside of his hip, attentive, watching Lenny shove his fist back into his mouth to quell any louder sounds. He wished they could make noise, wished he could make Lenny shout, but he’d have to make do with the eros of those bitten-off gasps.

He got two fingers in and scissored them, starting to ache between his own legs. His dick wanted to be in that constricting heat and was letting him know. He tried to focus on Lenny, testing if he could fit a third finger in and watched him arch when it teased at his hole.

He was so beautiful it drove Barry crazy.

He reached down with his free hand to push off his underwear and grip himself, stroking fast and sure. He must’ve been kidding himself if he thought Lenny wouldn’t notice because he did, looking down at him with dark eyes when Barry glanced up.

He was hard again. Jesus, that didn’t take long. Barry gave in to the urge to lick up the underside from base to tip.

“ _Barry_ —”

He pushed the third finger inside him. He was still tight, so tight around those digits, hot and slick but too tense.

“Let me get you close, Lenny.”

He wrapped his mouth around Lenny’s cock, giving up on touching himself to stroke Lenny instead. A hand fisted into his hair, a little needy whine coming out of Lenny, and Barry took it slow, aiming to tease, tongue circling the tip. It wasn’t long before it was too much, he could tell, probably oversensitized still. Lenny was bucking up into his mouth, riding his fingers, panted breaths on just _this_ side of desperate, fingers gripping hair in his hair.

It was so all hot Barry felt his stomach tighten, starting to throb between his legs.

Lenny’s cock hit the back of his throat and Barry’s eyes rolled back into his head; he gave up trying to stroke Lenny and dropped his hand to himself, fast, blurring a little as Lenny swore at how far down Barry took him, swallowing back the urge to gag, throat convulsing and—

He groaned around Lenny’s cock and saw white, eyes rolling back and spilling over his hand. He vibrated as he finished, pulled his mouth off just to breathe, face crushed to Lenny’s hip and the other man was moaning, muffled against his own hand against his mouth. Barry realized his fingers were vibrating inside of Lenny and forcibly slow himself down.

They were being a little noisier than intended and he took a second to collect himself, to listen for any errant sounds in the rest of the house. All clear. Thank god.

He leaned back on his knees and grabbed his shirt off the floor as an impromptu towel to clean himself up, looking down at Lenny to survey his work. He was stretched out on his back, breathing heavy, cock flushed and hard, curved up toward his stomach. Barry grinned.

“You seemed into that.”

“You’re one to talk.” Lenny nodded at his lap and Barry shrugged one shoulder with a smile.

“It was hot.”

“You gonna be ready to go again?”

“Oh yeah. Superpowers, remember? I’m ready now.” And he was, a few strokes getting him hard again. Looking down at Lenny, it wasn’t any difficulty staying in the mood.

Lenny looked at it and swallowed. Barry brushed his thigh, opening his mouth to remind him they didn’t have to do this, but Lenny was faster—

“Should I roll over?”

Barry took his hand off himself before he got carried away. “Let’s do it like this, face to face.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Here—” he took the younger man’s legs and pushed them back, hooking them around his own waist. He rolled the condom on before lining himself up, muscles tight, too eager.

“You good?”

“Yeah. Do it.”

 _Fuck_ it was so _tight_. Barry groaned, stifling the sound against Lenny’s neck, hands trembling as he tried to quell the urge to push in fast and hard, to _take_. He let out a shaky breath as he went, cleaving into Lenny’s body, almost beside himself with how hot and good it felt.

Lenny was breathing slow and heavy near his ear, swallowed hard.

“Good?”

“Weird,” he let out a strained little chuckle.

“Yeah,” Barry agreed. He knew that first sensation could be a lot. First. God, he had to keep his possessive side in check, how it flared inside him. Forcibly, he stilled himself, hands stroking Lenny’s sides. “Relax for me.”

“Mm.”

“Yeah.”

He waited a moment more then started to thrust, gentle, but they were both too sensitized to keep it slow for long. Lenny was eager, rolling up into him, meeting his thrusts, and he kept taking Barry deeper and deeper, until he was burying himself into the slick hole hard and deep each thrust, grunting, kissing Lenny’s shoulder and then his mouth, swallowing his gasps and whines.

He would have loved to say it went on forever, but it was so heady, so deliciously hot and achingly good, almost painfully tight, that it would be a lie. He clutched Lenny’s hips and bored into him harder, gaining speed, sucked his ear lobe between his teeth and knew he wouldn’t last.

“Gonna cum soon, Lenny, ‘m close—” he gasped near his ear and Lenny’s hands dug in harder to his back, all blunted nails, his legs wrapping tighter around him.

“Yeah Barry, want it, c’mon—”

He didn’t need much more encouragement, drilling into him until he was close to vibrating, groaning and swallowing the sound back as he felt it overtake him, Lenny’s body clenching up in sympathy, tipping him over the edge as he let out his breath in a rush, shuddering and emptying himself, hips slamming forward to meet Lenny’s.

He bit his shoulder to cover his groan, feeling complete ecstasy connected to Lenny.

The he swallowed hard and pulled out, cleaned up with speed so he didn’t have to wait before getting back on the bed and back between Lenny’s legs, taking him in his mouth, two fingers back inside him, finding the right spot. Lenny swore and arched, surprised but then riding it, taking what he needed from Barry.

He barely gave Barry any warning, gasping and then pulling on his hair, swearing and shuddering, but Barry got the picture, pressing himself further onto Lenny’s cock, licking along the underside and collecting every drop, swallowing. Watching Lenny shudder, completely blissed out, with every twirl of his tongue around the head was pure pleasure.

Finally, sated, he flopped back up next to Lenny.

“Wow.”

“That good?”

“Just…wow, Barry.”

He laughed and curled into him, kissing him gently. Lenny scrunched his nose.

“I know where your mouth’s been.”

He snorted, “getting delicate on me _now_?”

Lenny glared and took his face in his hands to kiss him hard. Barry laughed into it.

“It’s too easy to get a rise out of you.”

“It is not.”

Barry giggled again, and kissed him because he could, not even dignifying that with a response. “We should clean up, and crash for real.”

Lenny nodded and smiled, a sort of soft and happy look, and curled his fingers around Barry’s for a minute before they mustered the energy to deal with themselves and finally crash.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like most of you guys can predict what's gonna happen next, just considering narrative structure.... :)))))
> 
> If you follow me on tumblr, you'll know that I mentioned that his chapter is a turn or a change in tone? That's kind of a dual thing. First, we get Lenny's shift from wanting to age back up and get this shit over with to... being present in this reality and feeling like the clock is counting down. I think there's something pretty bittersweet about that.
> 
> But second, we also get the shift, pretty sharp and sudden really, from "let me sit with you on the couch" to "okay let's have sex." There's sort of two reasons for that. One is that other shift, the feeling like he won't have this for much longer so he has to act. But it's also just that Lenny is 19 and horny and wants to try this, learns that he one day sorts it out anyway, has been *trying* to wrap his head around how it's "okay" now in 2016. And I mean, he has an attractive bisexual guy sharing the same room as him who he *knows* is interested on some level. 
> 
> And for the record, he wasn't trying to push Barry into sex if he didn't want it, he was trying to assert himself against his future self to prove that, well, he *exists*. Barry got that, and didn't feel bullied or forced or anything, in case there's any lingering doubt about that. 
> 
> Anyway, this chapter is 10k words haha whoops. I had a bit less time to proofread it because life has been ridiculous, so I apologize for any typos. Hope you enjoyed it though <3 Also, comments make my day :)


	6. Grand Theft Auto's Just the Name of a (Video) Game

 

He woke up feeling disoriented. His lower back was sore and some of his muscles were aching, ones he hadn’t felt in a while. He was on a bed much too soft in a room too bright, and he was definitely naked. When was the last time he even slept naked? He ran his fingers over the fabric of the sheets, high thread count, and he realized he wasn’t alone in the bed.

And then it caught up with him.

Barry. Barry _Allen_.

And almost a month of—

Oh _fuck_. 

His memories. They were—

He was back to normal. As if he’d never forgotten. Except the headache. That could be from any number of things though. Like the stress of waking up with Barry Allen’s arm across his chest, breathing little bunny-snores next to him.

Urge to murder rising.

He needed to get out of here. He was out of the bed and across the room before thinking, reaching for the outfit at the top of the closet, the one they’d set aside from when he’d first been de-aged, clothes that should fit right. Those little skinny jeans from nineteen were definitely going to waste, no way he’d fit anything close to them. Why Barry had even spent so much—

What the hell was he doing thinking of jeans right now? He hauled on his pants and could hear Barry stirring.

“Mm, Lenny? Come back to bed.”

He stilled, then kept dressing.

“Thanks but no thanks, Barry. I’ll be skipping the post-coital breakfast too, so sorry.” His voice had more ice than even _he_ had expected. Behind him on the bed, Barry actually yelped.

“Snart? Holy shit. Holy—you’re— _you_ —and that means…”

Len turned as he pulled his sweater down. Barry was there on the bed, sitting up with his hand pressed to his forehead, totally gobsmacked.

“Morning, Scarlet.” He moved toward the door. Barry was up in a second and in front of the door, swore, was a twister of lightning and then reappeared in front of the door again with clothes on, clearly ones he’d grabbed off the floor. One of them was Len’s ( _Lenny’s,_ ugh) shirt.

“Wait.”

“Get out of my way.”

“We should talk—”

“Not interested.”

“We had _sex_.”

“Trust me, I know.” His sore ass wasn’t about to let him forget. He really didn’t want to think about that right now though.

“So sit for ten minutes and _talk to me_. Or come with me to the lab, Caitlin’ll need a blood sample.”

“I have business to attend to.”

“What business?”

“None of yours.”

He moved to get past Barry, who looked determined to hold his ground, moving into his way, so he shifted at the last second and grabbed Barry by the front of his shirt, slamming him against the door of the room.

“Let me make myself clear, _Barry_. I’m leaving. You will not stop me. I’m going to wake up my sister and get the hell out of this house and then I’m going to make myself a new cold gun and the next time you see me, you had better be ready to run.”

Barry blanched and Len shoved him out of the way and opened the door, making his way down the hall.

Wally trundled down the stairs with heavy steps. Len stopped. Wally stopped.

“Uh…”

Wally’s eyes darted to Len and behind him, clearly to where Barry had followed him into the hall.

“I’m just gonna head back to my room,” he pointed behind him.

“Good idea.”

He was up the stairs almost as fast as the Flash. Len almost snorted, but Barry was dodging his heels.

“You don’t have to be a dick to Wally just because you hate me. He’s never even _met_ this you.”

“He’ll live.”

He knocked on Lisa’s door then poked his head in.

Oh. Well. Fuck.

He was greeted by the lovely sight of an angelic six-year-old sleeping peacefully.

“Why isn’t she grown up?”

She shifted in her sleep. Barry came up next to him. “I… don’t know. I guess because she was more affected by the blast? You guys were a year off, right?”

Len frowned, reevaluating. Lisa was still a little girl. He could take care of her, he’d just have to make some additional stops, not to mention spare time to pack her things so she didn’t freak out about leaving her dolls behind.

“Get out,” he snapped at Barry. Lisa woke up.

“’enny?”

Barry hesitated next to him.

Lisa sat up looking confused. “Who’re you?”

Great.

His headache was definitely getting worse. He moved into the room and crouched next to her bed.

“It’s me, Lise. Leonard.”

“… Lenny? You look,” her face screwed up, “old.”

He snorted. “Thanks.”

“Did you grow back up?”

“Yeah. You should too, soon.”

“But I like it here, I don’ wanna grow up.”

He shoved all the feelings _that_ brought up aside.

“Why don’t we worry about that later? For now, let’s pack your things up.”

“Pack? Where’re we goin’?”

He glanced back at Barry, standing awkwardly watching their display, like he was afraid to let Len out of his sight.

“Home.”

“But this is home now.”

“Not for me. And not for you either.”

“But that’s what you told me!”

“And I’m tell you now that we’re moving.”

“I don’ wanna go.”

He sighed, a little too aggravated. “You have to.”

“I don’t wanna! I wanna stay here, with Barry!”

Len glared at him. “Get out.”

“Sorry, I—sorry.” Barry held up his hands in front of him and finally started moving toward the door, backward like Len was some kind of predatory animal waiting to strike.

He didn’t expect Lisa to launch herself out of bed and attach herself to Barry’s middle.

“Don’ make me go, Barry! I wanna stay here!”

Shit.

Len stood up. Barry looked at him a little helpless then back to Lisa. “I’m sorry, Lisa, it’s not my choice.”

She cried into his stomach.

“Lisa, we’re leaving.”

She cried harder, shaking her head.

“Lisa,” Barry took a minute to extract her from himself and kneeled down, cupping her cheeks. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. Just give me a minute to talk to your brother in the hall, okay?”

Len stalked passed them, “pack your dolls in your Dora bag.”

Barry glared at him and closed the door, following behind him into the hall. “What are you doing?” he hissed.

“Taking my sister home, what does it look like?”

“Le—Snart, I don’t think, I mean, she _can_ stay here until she’s back to normal.”

“Not happening.”

“You really wanna uproot her right now? When she’s de-aged and stuck in the future?”

“She’s adjusting fine.”

“Because we gave her a stable environment every day! Where are you even gonna take her?”

“She _has_ an apartment.”

“With stuff for a kid?”

“I’ll be there with her.”

“We don’t even know how long she’s gonna be stuck like this.”

“I _know_ how to look after my sister.”

“I’m not saying you don’t, I’m saying she’s happy here and wants to _stay_ here.”

“She doesn’t belong here.”

Barry actually looked affronted. “You _both_ were welcome here.”

“A little _too_ welcome.”

That got him to shut up. He went a little green around the gills. Good. It was nice to see him squirm.

“I’m sor—”

“Don’t.”

“But I—”

“Lisa’s the priority, here.”

Barry swallowed and nodded, dragging his hand through his hair in a too-familiar gesture. Len looked away. “She should still stay. You’re gonna leave here and do what? Rebuild your cold gun, you said? You want Lisa around for that, seeing what her big brother gets up to in the future?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Are you suggesting I’d let _anything_ happen to her?”

“I’m suggesting that we both know you’re going to go to dangerous places and purchase dangerous goods at the very _least_ and I care about Lisa, okay? I don’t want her getting dragged around the back end of the city just because you woke up in a bad mood.”

He had Barry against the wall, holding his forearm to that skinny neck, breathing into his space, angrier than he’d let himself be in a long time. “You do _not_ know what is better for my sister than I do.”

Barry didn’t seem fazed by the hold, only angry, snarling right back.

“You’re right. But if you take her then you’re going to walk out of this house with a little girl in tow and we both know you’re going to feel like crap when she’s kicking and screaming and _homesick_ the entire time because you won't get your head out of your ass.”

Len stepped back and dropped his arm. He took a deep breath. Lisa wanted to stay. She was safe and happy. That much he was certain of. He couldn’t abandon her though. Not even to the Wests.

He marched past Barry and back into the room. Lisa was sitting on the bed holding her new favorite doll, one of Iris’s ones she’d brought out of storage for Lisa.

Fuck.

Plan suddenly out the window, Len kneeled beside her. “Hey Lise.”

She sniffed.

“You don’t have to leave.”

“I don’t?”

“No. _But_ ,” he tilted his head, “I won’t be staying here.”

“ _No_ ,” she launched her arms around his shoulders. “You _have_ to stay too.”

“No, I’m leaving.”

“I don’ want you to go!”

“I know.” He rubbed circles onto her back. “But it’s okay. It’ll only be a few days.”

“I don’ wanna be alone!” Her voice was getting shrill. He let his own get more stern.

“Calm down. Take deep breaths. You won’t be alone. You’ll have Iris and Barry and Joe and Wally. You’ll still visit Cisco and Doctor Caitlin.”

“But what about _you_?” she pulled back and rubbed her eyes. He was relieved she still knew how to cry.

“I’ll be in the same city. And… you can phone me.” He’d give her a burner number, no way he was keeping the iphone Barry had decked him out with.

“Will you visit?”

He hesitated. How long would she be like this? A day? An hour? Was this conversation even worth having?

But what if it was a week? Two?

He glanced up over his shoulder at Barry, still hovering silently in the doorway. The other man’s eyebrows raised. “You can?”

He frowned and turned back to his sister. “I’ll visit.”

“Promise?”

He hated that word. “I promise.”

“Everyday?”

“Not—no, not every day.”

“Please!”

“I can’t.”

“But you promised!”

He sighed. “I’ll come… as much as I can.”

“Everyday!”

“We’ll see.”

“Every—”

“ _Fine_.”

She sighed in the most put-upon way but relaxed. He wondered just how many of her tears had been crocodile ones.

Standing back up was hell on his joints, his knees reminded him of how much they liked sustained kneeling. He missed _some_ things about being nineteen.

“I have to go now, Lise. You going to be good for Joe?”

“I will.” She was still pouting, but that was fine. He ruffled her hair and let her hug him and then slipped out of her room while she picked out a dress for the day. She’d only started doing that at age five, he remembered, picking out her own outfits.

Time really flew when you weren’t paying attention.

He eyed Barry but the other didn’t try to stop him as he traipsed down the stairs, just followed him to the door.

“We really should… talk, sometime soon.”

He hmm’d, examining the keys by the door. What a conundrum. Wally would forgive him. Most likely.

“Snart?”

“I’m not one for heart to hearts. But I’ll see you soon, Barry.”

He was out the door then, boots on—definitely a half size too tight but his toes would live—into Wally’s car and gone.

 

[ … ]

 

“HE STOLE MY CAR?!”

Barry winced. “Borrowed, I think.”

“And you didn’t stop him?”

“Well I wasn’t about to call a cab for Captain Cold.”

Joe snorted. He’d been out for his morning jog and missed the entire thing. Barry envied him. He wished he could have just slept through Snart’s departure or something. Anything, honestly, would have been better than _that_ confrontation.

He couldn’t believe he’d slept with the man the night before. What the hell had he been thinking?

“How’m I gonna get it back?”

“He’ll leave it by Saints and Sinners, probably. I’ll grab it.”

Wally threw his hands in the air in frustration.

“My brother stole a car?”

“Borrowed, apparently.” Wally dropped onto the couch next to Lisa, frustrated.

“He said he’s gonna visit Lisa. You can bug him about it then.”

“You want me to shout down Captain Cold?”

“You’ve been living with him for almost a month.”

“Not the same.”

Barry sighed. He needed to head to the lab and let Cisco and Caitlin know what was up.

 

[ … ]

 

“You’re leaving her with the Flash?”

Mick, at least, was glad to see him.

“I see you approve.” Len was nursing a much-needed drink. Screw it if it was only 10:30.

“Are you insane?”

“She’s _six_.”

“Never thought I’d see the day you leave looking after her to someone else.”

Not like he didn’t already feel like shit about it, thanks so much.

“She wanted to stay.”

Mick’s eyebrows rose. “Shit.”

Len finished his drink and didn’t respond.

“Sorry buddy.”

“There’s a family. She’s settled.”

Mick eyed him. Did Len just imply the Flash was married with kids? Probably. Whatever. “Still. She know it’s him?”

“She doesn’t have much context to care. But yeah, she’ll know after this.”

“How long till I get that name outta you?”

Len didn’t even bother, “I owe the little shitstain too much to go around giving that out right now.”

“Shoulda just found me. You know I would’ve taken you in.”

“Finding you wasn’t easy. I almost got shot whenever I went outside.”

“Yeah well.”

“What’s done is done, Mick.”

“So what’re you gonna do now?”

He thought about it, discomfort and dread pooling in him at the prospect of how much he owed. Beyond the immediate, he didn’t actually have any plan. But there was one thing that wasn’t going to cause him any angst. “First things first, I’ve got some scores to settle.”

 

[ … ]

 

Len walked into the run-down pawn shop that served as the front and hangout for Ricky, Thompson, Crazy Jack, and Joey B., aka Baldy, Greasy, Ugly, and Dental Work. He was still amused at the nicknames he’d come up with for them.

They weren’t even with one of the Families, just low-level careers without any real loyalties, only one of whom had done any real time worth talking about. The kind of men you could hire for a crew, something Len had done the odd time or two, way back. That they’d tailed him at nineteen was unbearably sloppy of his younger self. In his defense, he’d been a little pre-occupied.

Only three of them where there, and all three of them paled when he walked in.

“Now now,” he kept out his arms wide, voice amicable. He was going to savor this. “Smells like you just put on a fresh pot.”

He pointed a gloved finger over to the coffee maker Thompson kept behind the till. Their friend, a guy he was pretty sure went by Andy, was staring between him and them a little wide eyed.

“Pour me a cup, would you Andy?”

Andy hastened over to do that and Len flipped the ‘Open’ sign around.

Andy’s hands shook a little as he handed Len the cup. He smirked and nodded his head, “thank you, Andy.”

“Snart…” Joey B. started.

He sipped the bitter liquid. “I had a hell of a month, gotta say. It was a _real_ pain in my ass being a kid again. You boys,” he pointed his finger at them around the cup, “sure didn’t mind though.”

“Look, Snart, we were just try’na make a buck.”

“Isn’t everyone?” He dropped the coffee on the counter and had a gun at Thompson’s head in a second. The other two had their hands on their weapons but stilled. “Easy now, boys… we can all play nice.”

“Whad’you want?”

He hmm’d. “Where’s ‘ol Jack?”

“Didn’t make bail.”

“Lucky him. Put your hands on the counter. Both of them, Ricky. Not you, Andy.”

They all did. Sometimes he was amazed at these low-lifes.

“How much did your bail all cost again?”

“Ninety large.”

“Each?” Len was almost impressed.

“Total.”

That sounded about right.

“Got it. Nine then.”

He slipped his newest cold gun out of its holster. After he’d learned how to create them, he kept two back-ups in the city tucked away.

“Snart…”

“Easy, Rick. I’m being generous here.” He pulled his .45 away from Thompson’s forehead now that he had their attention, slipped it away with a smirk, and dialed down the cold gun. “Might want to spread those fingers a little wider.”

“Oh _shi—_ ”

He walked out of there 38 seconds later, a sluice of satisfaction at knowing none of them had a trigger finger left. He’d taken three from each. Barry oughtta be proud of his restraint.

 

[ … ]

 

Cassidy was moping the floors of the bar when a familiar face walked in. Not many people actually dropped by this place in the afternoon, but even so she relaxed when she saw him—the way he was _supposed_ to be—and hung up the mop.

“Snart,” she nodded at him, heading behind the bar for whatever he was in the mood for. He nodded at her.

“What’ll it be?”

“No need for a beverage, I’m just here to pay up a tab.” He spoke in that weird slow double-meaning way of his that made her want to knock his teeth out some days, but it was good to see him back. She’d have felt a little bad if the kid who walked in here not that long ago got a bullet in the back of the head for his trouble.

He slipped a bill across the bar and she took it, not one to complain about free money, especially when it came to making sure there was no power vacuum in the area that would lead to a helluva lot more bar fights. Snart was good for business.

“Anytime, Snart.”

He smirked. “With any luck, it won’t happen again.”

She actually laughed, “that’d be good for my blood pressure.”

“You’re not the only one.”

 

[ … ]

 

Barry was on edge all day at work. He spilled coffee over a bunch of reports and didn’t even notice in time to speedforce save them. The look he got from Singh was deathly, but at least he hadn’t spilled on evidence this time.

He dropped by STAR labs but the wincing looks from Caitlin and Cisco were too much. Caitlin attempted to be sympathetic and Barry nope’d right out of there. There was no way he could get into that, not right now.

When he wasn’t busy feeling ~~sorry for himself~~ miserable, he almost had to laugh hysterically.

He’d slept with Snart. He really slept with Leonard Snart. He actually did have a death wish, didn’t he?

Joe shot him more than one worried look when they crossed paths but he let Barry dodge conversation at all costs. He knew that wouldn’t last, but a day’s grace was a godsend.

He picked up Wally’s car at Saints and Sinners, glad it was there. He didn’t dare step inside, tempted as he was. He wasn’t ready to look Snart in the eye quite yet.

At least one thing was certain. Any ground he’d made becoming friends with Lenny was gone the second he turned back into Snart. If anything, he hated Barry more than ever.

Why did his good intentions always backfire so badly?

 

[ … ]

 

Convincing himself to return to the West house that night was a struggle. On the one hand, he really did _not_ want to be there. Facing all of them again, after how irrepressibly _kind_ they had been. He never expected it to make him so uncomfortable, that kind of… care. But it did, left him feeling exposed and a hundred other things he felt the need to shove away deep down and away.

On the other hand… leaving Lisa behind was weighing on him and the need to check in was oppressive. He knew she would be safe, but his instincts didn’t allow him not to worry, not to need to verify.

He considered returning Wally’s car to him but it was already gone from the lot at Saints and Sinners by the time he circled back there after sorting things out with the boys, which meant Barry had swung by with the spare key. Len took his bike, and sure enough the car was back in the driveway at the West house.

To knock or not to knock?

The issue was resolved when Barry opened the door before he even made it up the steps.

“You came back.”

“To see Lisa.”

He pushed past the younger man before he could blurt out something stupid. Wally was in the living room, almost but not quite as wide-eyed as that morning.

“You stole my car, dude.”

He snorted. “You’d _know_ if I stole it.” Nonetheless, he passed the keys across the room and Wally caught them with a relieved expression. “Even filled up the tank for you.”

“Oh. Uh, thanks.”

Wally was alright. Len might have to demand a Call of Duty rematch at some point.

“Where’s Lisa?”

“Upstairs,” Joe’s voice rang out, and he was leaning in the door to the kitchen, beer in hand. He was a little too still and stiff for it to look natural, but he was clearly trying. “Bath time.”

“West.”

“Lenny.”

He glared. “I think we’d all feel better if we leave that particular nickname in the past.”

“You taking Lisa with you?”

“If she wants to come.”

“She wants to stay.”

“Then she can stay. It’s her choice. But if that’s the case, West, I _will_ be visiting.”

“Mhm.” Joe waved toward upstairs as if Len thought he needed permission (he didn’t) and turned back toward the kitchen.

He avoided glancing at Barry as he headed up stairs to check on his sister. He rapped on the door and poked his head in at her invitation.

“Lenny!” she squealed and he was struck, again, by how _tiny_ she was. Sitting in the bath with bubbles everywhere and a row of mermaid dolls—another of Barry’s many purchases—on the rim of the tub, she looked positively miniscule.

“Hey kiddo. Just wanted to let you know I was here.”

“Are you _stay_ -ing?”

“Not for too long.”

“Wanna play mermaids?”

He sighed. He hadn’t played with her and her toys since… well, technically a few days ago, but it felt like 20 years ago anyway. He slipped fully into the room and sat on the ground on a dry spot.

“Why don’t you tell me about them instead?”

She lit up and did, eyes bright with a smile. She was holding mermaid court, each individual mermaid with a story to tell. It was almost impossible to follow, convoluted as hell, but he couldn’t believe how it made him smile. More muted than when it would have been at nineteen, but still, he could feel it tug at the corners of his mouth.

He missed this, her as a little girl, him looking out for her. He also missed _her_ , at the age she was supposed to be. His sister wasn’t a little girl, she was a bold woman ready to cut down anyone in her path. As innocent as she was now, he knew exactly what the world was going to do to the little girl in front of him in the next few years of her life.

The thought was sobering.

“Why don’t we get you out and dried off?” He hadn’t actually looked after her at this age all _that_ much, but he knew the drill, would always know the drill. She was in pajamas in no time, then bounded down the stairs for her last bit of freedom before bedtime.

He followed her down and headed for the door. Lisa was having none of it,

“Come color with me?” she tugged on his arm, not subtly pulling him in the direction opposite from the door.

“Time for me to go, Lise.”

This was uncomfortable with an audience. Joe was dutifully watching the news but Barry kept sneaking glances. At least Wally was nowhere in sight.

“Read me a story? Pretty please?”

God she was cute at this age. No wonder she grew up and learned how to manipulate people, she was only six and already knew how to bat her eyelashes and smile to get what she wanted.

“Maybe next time,” he conceded.

She opened her mouth, but mercifully, Joe cut her off, “Lisa honey, why don’t you come here and we can turn on Treehouse before bed?”

Ugh, that dreaded channel. Not _everything_ was better in 2016. But Len was grateful, if privately, that Lisa suddenly looked torn and eager.

“Go on. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“ _Fine_ ,” she huffed as if it was a great burden, total counterpoint to her smile. She hugged him around the middle before jumping over to the couch, curling up right into Joe’s side and taking the remote like she was in charge.

It made him smile for all of a second, watching, but then he caught Barry looking at him and dropped into a frown, turning to leave.

Of course Barry would follow him outside. Naturally.  

“Hey, Snart, wait up for a sec.”

“No thanks.”

“We need to talk about this.”

“About _what_.” He knew what.

“You know what.”

“Oh you mean how you fucked my nineteen-year-old self into the mattress?”

Barry made a constricted sound in his throat, stopping short. Len stopped too, considering his options, then finally turned around.

“Lemme guess: feeling guilty? Here, Barry. Let me absolve you. I don’t care. He was desperate and you were horny. Eager young thing climbs onto your lap and begs you for a good time? Enjoy. But I’m not interested in a repeat performance. Have a nice day.”

“Lenny wait—” Barry grabbed his arm and Len rounded on him, right into his space—

“You do _not_ get to call me that.”

“You’re my friend—”

“A punk kid was your friend, I’m your enemy.”

Barry leaned back, looking winded. “You haven’t been my enemy in a long time.”

Len felt tense. He needed to get out of this conversation. He wasn’t ready for it. For any of it. He took his arm out of Barry’s grip. “Look out for my sister, Barry.”

Then he was getting on his bike and setting off.

 

[ … ]

 

Barry cleaned his room out and put away the cot, finally. He cleaned out the ashtray sitting on the window ledge, feeling nostalgic over cigarette butts, of all things. Cleaned the clothes out of the closet and put them in bags to donate.

When he was done, he he laid on his back in the too-quiet room, only the sound of his own breathing.

He hadn’t cried the whole month Lenny shared the space with him. Had been so distracted that the ache of missing his father… hadn’t _left_ , never left, but wasn’t something he could dwell on so deeply, didn’t have time to.

Now he missed Lenny and it made everything else come back two fold. Three fold. He cried and tried to smother the sound against his hand, hating how sorry he felt for himself. This was all his own fault anyway.

He’d never admit it to anyone, but he slept on Lenny’s pillow that night, comforted by the familiar if unpleasant smell of cigarettes and mint and Leonard.

 

[ … ]

 

Barry woke up earlier to help Lisa with her morning routine, to make things easier on Joe. He didn’t begrudge that, getting her some cereal, making sure she got dressed in something okay for the weather, had a little jacket, all the things for her day at the lab packed. Joe got in from his run while Barry was trying and failing—miserably—to brush Lisa’s hair and not pull at the tangles till she squealed. Joe took pity and saved him from hair duty.

Barry followed them to the lab that day to talk to Caitlin and Cisco before work.

“Any idea when she’ll be… her again?” he asked Caitlin while Lisa was distracted by Cisco.

“Well, we finally have enough data to have made a proper algorithm for the timeline. Turns out the age you are when you’re de-aged and just how much development you’ve undergone since then makes a difference on how Lady Fountain’s temporal field interacts with your cells.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that’s why my calculations were off with Snart, why he took a whole month—because he wasn’t 100% done growing at 19. People don’t finish neural development until their mid-twenties, so he did more actual reversion. The older Keystone detectives who got hit? One of them aged back up after just three days, and he lost 6 years. Just because he was developmentally the same at 63 and 57.”

“So for Lisa… that means she’ll take longer, even compared to Snart.”

Caitlin glanced through the glass at the little in the next room. “Another week, Barry. That’s my best estimate for you.”

“Great.”

She gave him an encouraging little smile, “at least she’s a nice kid?”

“Yeah…” he was already distracted again, thinking about Snart visiting every day for an entire week. “Hey, can I ask you something, about when you were de-aged?”

Her eyebrows shot up, “shoot.”

“Your crush on Joe—”

“I thought we agreed to never _ever_ mention that, Barry.”

He chuckled, “okay yeah, but hey, I’m sure he was flattered.”

She scowled. “Don’t.”

“I just—did you have a crush on him before you de-aged? Or… after you aged back up?”

It was maybe a little cruel to ask, but he had to know.

“That’s not… this is about Snart, right?”

He looked away. She sighed and clasped her hands.

“I didn’t feel that way about Joe before, no. He’s a very handsome man but that’s just not… he and I aren’t compatible, and it never crossed my mind. But my younger self?” She laughed a little. “I _may_ have had an issue with authority figures and rebellion when I was a teenager. I liked the _idea_ of a, err… strong male figure. But I grew up, Barry, and became a _lot_ more professional.”

He snorted, thinking of some of the things her de-aged self had said, not just about Joe but him and Cisco. No one was really spared from the embarrassment.

“I grew up to preferring men who want to treat me like a princess, men with… _passion_. Not that Joe doesn’t have passion, I just—”

He waved her away. “I get it. He’s a realist. Hell, we both know Joe and Cisco would be a better match than you and him.”

She let out a startled laugh, “oh you aren’t even wrong.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, a little more somber. “I guess it’s a lost cause.”

 

[ … ]

 

“You know I’d kill to see her at this age,” Mick rumbled when Len was preparing to head over to the West house again. He’d found, tucked away in her apartment, her old cabbage patch doll she never let go of.

“You wouldn’t even recognize her.”

“Probably not. Still though, be funny.”

Len rolled his eyes, “I’m not bringing you to his house.”

Mick shrugged. “Bring her here.”

He looked around at the workshop they were in, Mick’s welding tools everywhere, a shelf with more than one gun on it. He shot Mick an incredulous look. “Really.”

He laughed, “c’mon, she’s a smart kid.”

“Not happening.”

“So will you stop moping after you see her, then? Or is it gonna be like this till she grows back up?”

“I’m not _moping_ , Mick.”

“Yeah ‘n I’m not itching to burn something.”

He rolled his eyes, “just drop it.”

“This ‘cause Sparky’s married?”

“He’s single.”

“Oh ho ho, so it is about the Flash.”

He resisted the urge to snap back—no need to prove Mick right—and crossed his arms. “Thought we weren’t gonna gossip like school girls.”

“Hey, I don’t do pep-talks, but if you’re fucking the Flash, I wanna know.”

Len glanced to the side, pursing his lips.

Mick scrambled up from his spot on the couch, almost knocking over his beer. “You _are_?!”

“No. Not—fucking. Just… fucked.”

His expression went dark for a second, “do I gotta pay this guy a visit?”

“ _No_. My dumbass-self initiated, _eagerly_. Thanks for the encouragement, by the way.”

Mick ignored the threat in his voice and laughed, “nice.”

Len shook his head—Mick’s priorities and his had never been quite the same—and went to collect the bag he’d packed for Lisa.

“So what’s the problem, then?”

“You really wanna know.”

“You called me up at midnight to come out the burbs to cheer you up ‘n left me sitting there while you went back to him. Yeah I wanna know what’s so good about him. Or bad enough to keep you in a mood since you got back here.”

Shit. He dropped the bag and leaned back against the table, crossing his arms again, just for comfort this time, the familiar texture of his sweater. They didn’t talk about shit like this if they didn’t have to, but that was… on him.

“My mood’s not just… Being nineteen wasn’t _fun_ , Mick. It gave me more ‘n I’d like to think about… the Flash is just,” he fished around for the right way to put it, “another wrench in that.”

Mick waited. Len sighed. Fine.

“He’s _good_ , Mick. A good person. All of them are. Too good, it’s a little sick. Made me miss litter and fist fights, staying out there. But _that’s_ the problem.”

“That Flash is a good person?” He looked confused, Len couldn’t blame him. He glanced at his finger nails.

“I owe him… my life. A few times over. And Lisa’s. And he’s the one person who’ll only ever exploit that if he’s truly desperate, and never for his own gain.”

“ _Ah—_ too much power over you?” he asked like it was satisfying, like wrapping his head around Len’s mood was cause for celebration. Len flicked his eyes to him.

“Sure.”

Mick’s teasing grin dropped into a frown. “Not that?”

“Yes that. And more.”

“If you’re gonna be a cagey asshole I’m done listening.”

Len wasn’t amused. The bastard was the one who started this. He knew Len too well.

“I owe him too much to hurt him.”

“I don’t follow.”

Len sighed. He’d really have to say it. “He’s _good_. Good enough he somehow has _feelings_ for me, Mick.”

It seemed to click, finally. Mick grunted and nodded. “Right. We don’t do feelings.”

“Bingo.”

“Just ‘cause he got soft on you at 19 doesn’t mean he’ll go all mushy for you now, Snart.”

He hoped it were true. He’d believe it, except…

“You don’t know him. He’s…” A lot of things that Len didn’t know how to articulate.

Mick shook his head and sat back down on the couch, seemingly tired of this. “Just fuck him and get it out of your system so you can get back to normal, would’ya?”

“Charming,” he drawled out. Finally, he snatched up Lisa’s bag again and moved for the exit.

 

[ … ]

 

Barry really wished he had Snart’s number. He’d left the iphone behind so Barry wasn’t sure how to get in touch with him to tell him that Lisa was out with Iris and Caitlin. Joe was working on a case and Wally was out with friends, and Barry wouldn’t even be home except that _someone_ ought to be here when Snart inevitably showed up to see his sister.

He’d been there again the previous night, checking on her, up in her room reading her a story, listening to her tell him all about her various dolls. She’d squealed about the cabbage patch doll—an old, worn looking thing that must have some significance—and Barry’s heart had almost melted. His chest ached too, watching Snart with her, the way his face softened from cold to just… wonder. He seemed almost in awe of his little sister.

Barry hadn’t tried to talk to him the previous night. Snart made it clear how he felt.

And like clockwork, there was a knock on the door after what would be dinner time. Barry moved fluidly to open it.

Snart’s face was guarded, but got decidedly cold when it was Barry and not Lisa who opened the door. Barry let him in, already speaking, “she’s out with Iris and Caitlin right now. You’re welcome to stay until they’re back. They wanted to take her to the kids Lego science exhibit and today’s the last day it’s in town.”

After a moment of tension, Snart seemed to relax, “figured that’d be more up Cisco’s alley.”

Barry smiled. He was right, after all. “They wanted a girls’ day, I guess.”

“No West?” he glanced over, “Wally?”

Well, this was getting awkward. “Work, school.”

Snart eyed him. “You didn’t—”

“Plan this? No. But since you’re here can we _please_ talk?”

He seemed to consider, then nodded once. “I have questions.”

Barry felt a rush of relief and moved toward the kitchen, “can I get you a drink?”

“I’ve stolen enough of West’s beer already.”

Barry shrugged and pulled some out, “my beer, actually. Joe likes the malty stuff and I don’t have too much of a sweet tooth.”

“Now _that_ I find surprising.”

He took the beer and Barry relaxed a little. “I crash _hard_ after eating too much sugar. I try to eat more fat and protein, stuff that doesn’t spike my blood sugar as much.”

“Ah.”

“So—you have questions?” So did Barry, but he was curious what Snart had to ask.

“Mm. How long is my sister stuck like that?”

Ah. He explained what Caitlin had told him; Snart seemed unimpressed.

“Another five days?”

“About that. Maybe four.”

“Great.” He took a swig of his beer. “Your turn.”

Oh, they were doing that.

“What do I call you now?”

Snart arched an eyebrow.

“I lived with you for a month—calling you ‘Snart’ is getting old, but you looked like you were about to punch me when I called you Lenny.”

“Leonard is fine, Barry. Or… Len, if you’re feeling brave.”

He laughed, feeling more at ease. “Okay. Len.” The man scowled and Barry grinned. “Your turn?”

“Realistically… I owe you a debt. You _and_ West. I’d prefer not to. How can I make that happen?”

Barry winced, taking a sip of his drink. He had no idea. “Just… owe me a favor, I don’t know. And Joe. I don’t… have anything I need. Neither of us do.”

“Shame.”

He sighed. “Can we… talk about what happened?”

“I _told_ you—I don’t care.”

“I still shouldn’t have—”

“Had sex? Lived your life?” Leonard tilted his head with a sardonic sort of drawl, “fucked the pretty little thing gagging for it?”

“It wasn’t like that.” He frowned. “Look can we talk about this like adults instead of you being a dick?”

“Y’know we wouldn’t have to _have_ this conversation if it weren’t for your goodie two-shoes guilt complex. You could’ve fucked me and left it at that. But you’re still worried about it because your boyish little crush on me, aren’t you?”

Barry swallowed a pull of beer, hot half with anger and half with shame. “What’s your point?” he ground out.

“You really have one, don’t you?”

“You _know_ I do. Make fun of me, I don’t care. I can’t control that I’m still attracted to you, even if you are an asshole. But that’s _not_ why I care about this. I care because I did something to you that you didn’t want, couldn’t even…” he looked down, trying to get himself to say it. Shit.

But the other man’s voice dropped to something colder, more serious. “You didn’t _violate_ me, Barry."

He hadn’t thought he had until Snart was so angry that morning. He’d felt sick all day, thinking _maybe_ —

"He— _I—_ consented.”

Barry set aside his beer. “He couldn’t make that choice for you.”

“Stop being a martyr.”

“Think this is the opposite of martyrdom.”

“Self pity, then. Taking all the guilt and blame. The one thing he was _right_ about was that he could make his own choices. If you can’t handle that then consider it _my_ choice.”

Barry’s heart beat a little harder in his chest, both relieved and confused. “Then are you pissed because I’m a guy?”

“I _have_ fucked other men.”

Barry let out a strained laugh and scratched the back of his head, feeling his chest heat up, hoping his neck and cheeks wouldn’t flush as he accidentally pictured it. “Right. So I guess you did end up with two first times after all.”

Leonard’s beer dropped to the counter with a ‘thunk’. He looked calculating, a little more imposing, and moved into Barry’s space. “Waiting for me to tell you you were better?”

He swallowed. He didn’t know _what_ he was waiting for. “Well was I?”

Leonard stepped forward, more into Barry’s space, enough so that he stepped back and hit the counter. “You really wanna know?”

“You’re the one who brought it up.” He was leaning back a bit, heart hammering again. Leonard was so close.

“Why don’t you guess?”

“You know it’s not nice to tease someone with a crush on you.”

“Then maybe we should take care of that.”

“What—”

Len’s lips were on his, smooth and sudden. Barry had a half-second of shock before he felt the other man’s hand in cup his face, fingers trailing into his hair, tongue sweeping against his lips. He stopped thinking and let him, let himself get pressed harder against the counter, hip to hip, let himself brush his tongue against Len’s. Len sucked his lip and he gasped, felt a hand snake around his waist, pulling them flush together, felt a thigh push between his own, rocking against him. Heat pooled sharp and sudden in his stomach.

The thigh press harder and he moaned. The kiss got deeper and he pressed his hands flush on Len’s chest, aching for more.

He pulled back and Barry swore quietly. He felt a hot breath against his ear, “you’re so easy.”

His whole body shuddered, “ _Lenny_ —”

The other man bit his neck and he groaned, tilted it to give him access.

A hand was on his belt. “Yeah, Barry—I’ll give you what you need.”

He was so turned on he felt light-headed. “Len—”

But.

“Wanna see you fall apart—”

Fuck. “Wait—” he didn’t register moving his own hand, only realizing it was already on Len’s wrist.

This felt familiar. Dread was pooling next to heat in his stomach faster than he could label it.

Len growled and nipped his ear, “you want this.”

That had better not mean—Barry pulled his head back and away to look at the other man. “Please _please_ tell me you’re not doing this just because you think I want you to.”

“I’m not. _Trust_ me.” Eyes raked his frame. Barry felt cheap, but jesus he was hard.

He pushed Len back a step, hands on his shoulders, breathing heavy. “I want you, but not if you’re just doing this because you think _I_ want it.”

The other man went from seductive control to anger at the drop of a dime. “ _Don’t_ make assumptions about me, Barry. If I thought fucking you would be enough to pay back what I owe, I’d already be on my knees. But I know that won’t fly with your good boy moral code.”

“Then _why_? Do _you_ even want this?”

“I want to get this out of my system—out of _both_ our systems.”

That wasn’t—it sounded so _cold_.

“I won’t even enjoy this if it’s cheap.” He pulled himself away, out from between him and the counter, putting distance between them.

“Somehow I doubt that,” Len’s eyes tracked him and he arched an eyebrow.

Barry didn’t have it in him to flush except with anger, voice bitter and loud. “Oh sorry—you’re right—I’m turned on. I do like this. Oh you got me. You’re such an asshole, you know that? Do you have any _idea_ how humiliating it is that I feel this way and you’re using it like this?”

At least he dropped the smug expression. “I’m trying to give us something we both could use—something we both know you want.”

“What _I_ want is for you to feel the same way about me as I do about you. If you’re just doing this because you think I’ll get over you after, then stop.”

The other man shifted on his feet, face coolly indifferent. “Then I suppose I should go.”

He realized that the deflating feeling inside him meant he actually had been holding out hope that Len would say something different. Would want something different. But that… was a no.

He felt more lost and confused than ever. Len wanted him after all, but only to get over him, apparently. Or what was left of being attracted to him. He curled in on himself. “I guess so.”

Leonard moved to the living room and collected his jacket. Barry followed. “Gotta ask… how’d you think it would work, Scarlet?”

“What?” He combed fingers through his hair, wishing Lenny— _Leonard_ would hurry and get out, if he was going.

“This.” He motioned between them, jacket draped over his arm. “You’re the Flash and I’m Captain Cold. You’re CCPD. I’m a criminal. If it’s not just something you can get out of your system, how did you expect this to go?”

Oh. Barry would’ve laughed at himself but he was a little too raw to try for self-deprecating right now.

“I don’t know… I’m good at keeping secrets. No one at my job asks about my personal life.” He shrugged. “I’m weird, they avoid me. Unless I started spending my weekends at Saints ‘N Sinners, I don’t think anyone would ever find out.”

Len tilted his head, “and as nemeses?”

What was he even supposed to say? “It hasn’t been an issue yet. You know that.”

“You really thought about it.”

Was he surprised? Or teasing? Barry felt ready to collapse onto the nearest horizontal surface, hug something soft, and forget Len ever kissed him already. Either that or find a punching bag and destroy it.

“Laugh it up.”

The other man didn’t look like he was laughing. Just… something else. He didn’t meet Barry's gaze. “I don’t do feelings, Barry. It’s nothing personal.”

He didn’t… quite know what to make of that. It almost sounded like an apology, if he didn’t know any better. “Right.”

“Tell Lisa I dropped by.”

“I—right. Can we get a number to reach you at? I could’ve texted you to let you know she wasn’t gonna be here, if…”

Leonard appraised him, then nodded slowly. He rolled off a number that Barry scrambled to write down, and left while Barry still had the pen in his hand.

“Be seeing you.”

 

[ … ]

 

If he was in a mood _before_ going to the West house, he was in a much fouler one after seeing Barry, one that carried over into the next day. Mick let him know, too, when Len snapped at him about his great idea of ‘getting it out of his system’.

“Not my fault you struck out, Snart. Got the charm of dead rat.”

“Bite me.”

Mick took off to burn something. Len’s fingers itched for a cigarette he didn’t have. He couldn’t believe he’d picked up the habit again and had to go through the hell of quitting now that he was back to normal.

He kept all that, including his temper, in check when his current phone buzzed in his pocket, the dial lighting up with Lisa’s iphone number. (What was Barry even gonna _do_ with those iphones after she grew up? Sell them on craigslist?)

“Hello.” His voice was neutral, unsure if it would be her or some bait-and-switch from Barry, but it _was_ her on the other end of the line, that little cute voice sounding even higher through the machine.

“Lenny?”

“Hey little Lisa.” Thank god Mick wasn’t around to see him smile into the phone like an idiot. “What’s up?”

“Mmm, ‘m s’pposed to call ‘n ask if you wanna come over for dinner today?”

He glanced at the clock. Joe would be picking her up at the lab right about now. “Why don’t I come later tonight, like I did before?”

“You _promised_ —you said you would visit and stay and—” her voice had a whine, sad, gearing-up-for-a-tantrum quality to it. Someone on the other end cut her off though, and he thought he heard Joe’s voice in the background before there was some muffled sounds and,

“Snart?”

“West.”

He heard the man sigh. “She missed you last night. She’s feeling a little overwhelmed, not having you around.”

Peachy. He rubbed his forehead. “Got it.”

“You _can_ come for dinner, Snart. You know we don’t bite.”

If only West was here to see him glare. He managed _not_ to make any inappropriate comments about Barry biting just fine. “It won’t make any difference on Lisa in the grand scheme of things.”

“I ain’t worried about the grand scheme—I’m worried about the little girl who misses the only point of stability she can remember.”

He knew firsthand how big emotions could at that age, at nineteen at least, so definitely at six too. Dammit.

“ _Fine_ ,” he snapped. “I’ll come. But at least let me buy take out, West. I’ve had enough free meals from you.”

“Fine by me.”

He gave the phone back to Lisa then, so Len could reassure her he’d be there when she got home. He hung up feeling more exhausted than was warranted. More family time with the Wests. This was just getting… something. Tiresome. Challenging. Keeping himself distant was harder than ever, and it hadn’t been easy to begin with, not since the first time Barry walked into Saints and Sinners.

 

[ … ]

 

Len made it there a few minutes after Joe and Lisa, by the look of it. She launched herself at him when she opened the door, arms stronger than they had any right to be when she bear-hugged him around the middle.

Joe smiled at him, and Len rolled his eyes but fondly, patting Lisa on the head and extricating himself.

“Told you I’d come.”

She had so much to tell him, about her day at the lab, about her high score in the game she was playing, about Barry running her around the park for fun (at least one of them didn’t get sick taking a ride in the speedforce).

“Take out menus’re on the fridge.”

Len glared. “I remember.”

West snorted, “you ever get tired of acting like we’re out to get you?”

He tensed even further, then forced himself to relax and wander over to the take out menus, browsing them, something to pretend to focus on. “It’s not every day you find yourself stuck in debt to people you’ve tried to off once or twice.”

“The amount of crazy we deal with? This ain’t even that weird for us.”

He thought about what Joe had told him, explaining to him some of why Barry was who he was, telling Lenny about time- and dimension-travelling speedsters and the monster that was Zoom. Most of it had gone over his head. He still wanted details. But for a moment, he almost laughed. “Right. S’pose I’m not a meta shark.”

Joe did laugh, “oh that one was weirder than usual. You should’a seen Wally though. He didn’t know Barry was the Flash yet and was freaking out, asking me ‘n Iris why we were acting like it was no big deal.”

Len was actually chuckling, able to picture it. “He really break down the door?”

“The _door_? The whole entryway was gone. Did you see how tall King Shark was? 10 feet, easy. 12, maybe.”

“Damn.”

They smiled. He got, in some way, that this must be odd for Joe, if not for the objective oddity of the situation, then for the fact that he’d been looking out for a punk kid for a month and now that little brat was back into a grown criminal he’d chased down more than once before. But if Joe could take that in stride at least until Lisa was grown, so could he.

“How much food do we need to order to feed Barry’s appetite?”

 

[ … ]

 

Barry almost couldn’t believe Leonard had agreed to come for dinner. He really would do anything for his sister.  

Iris was there too, had stopped in to the precinct to say hi to him when she was off work. She was bugging him about what was going on between him and Len now, mostly questions he didn’t want to answer, but she saw through it all anyway, even if she didn’t have any details. The knowing looks were enough.

But he couldn’t help himself from being a little pleased, if bittersweet, that Leonard was there for dinner. That he’d bought Chinese food (one of Barry’s faves, he was a bit over the moon), that he was seemingly more relaxed, spending time with Lisa in the living room instead of hiding upstairs, casual enough that even Wally seemed comfortable around him.

Barry didn’t let it get to him. Just hung out with Iris until food arrived, and felt better once he had a plate to focus on.

Leonard was a bit entertaining to watch at the table. He was as stiff as Lenny had been on his first night, but in a totally different way. More suspicious and less like he was worried about his table manners. More drawling and unworried but also out of place, like he wasn’t used to meals with so many people.

He ended up looking a little like he was pouting, almost, or maybe like he was zoned out (trying to hide and pretend he wasn’t there? He was definitely slouching) by the time Iris asked him to pass the beef and broccoli. He had a fork (the man refused to use chopsticks apparently) halfway to his mouth and finished his bite before going to move, just staring at her with a ‘you can wait’ expression.

Barry rolled his eyes and passed her the dish.

“You know,” Iris said with an admonishing look at Leonard, “you had better table manners at 19.”

He scoffed. “You were a lot more patient.”

“You were a lot cuter.”

He let out an almost-laugh, and Barry was pretty sure she’d caught him by surprise. “Around you, maybe. He got tongue tied around pretty women.”

She raised her eyebrows and it was Barry’s turn to laugh, not missing the warning look Joe shot Leonard.

“ _You_ were almost sweet.”

“ _He_ was mostly an idiot.”

She pointed her chopsticks at him, “do you have to refer to yourself in the third person? It’s kinda weird.”

“Agreed,” Joe chimed in. “Barry used to do that with the Flash. Weirded me out.”

Leonard shrugged. “He might as well’ve been a different person.”

“I see some similarity,” Wally said. Barry smiled around his bite at the glare Len sent him for that.

“Let’s change the subject,” Joe saved them all, “is there anything you miss about being 19?”

Leonard snorted, “smoking.”

Joe laughed, “warned you.”

“You did.”

“Wasn’t sure if it would have’n effect or not, with the whole de-aging thing. You getting cravings?"

Len hummed. “Unfortunately. I almost bit off Mick’s head this morning.”

Sure, it was _Mick_ he was an asshole to since he aged up. Barry scowled into his food.

“Who’s Mick?” Lisa asked, finally chiming into the conversation going on around her.

“You… haven’t met him yet.” Leonard tilted his head, but Barry noticed that his arrogant drawl disappeared when he was talking to her. “He’s a friend.”

“My friend too?”

“Yeah, your friend.”

“Is he my _boy_ friend?”

He actually chuckled at the notion. “ _No_. Definitely not.”

“Good! Boys are gross.”

“Some days I wish you still thought that way.”

“Amen,” Joe added. Iris rolled her eyes at him. Barry was trying hard not to laugh.

“The only boyfriend I have better be pretty. Like a prince.”

Barry couldn’t help but think of Cisco. Iris caught his eye and grinned, and then everything felt easier. The conversation turned. Wally talked about school. Leonard stuck around after dinner to help get Lisa in and out of the bath and off to bed. She hadn’t slept well the night before and crashed in a hurry.

Barry followed him out again, but held up his hands in defense when Len shot him a tired, annoyed look outside the door. “Don’t worry—I’m not, this isn’t about us.”

He shifted on his feet, motorcycle helmet under his arm. “Then what?”

“You’re one of our best leads for Lady Fountain still. Half her victims haven’t caught a glimpse of her face and we have three different reports on her hair color. Caitlin suggested asking you for advice in tracking her down, since you and Lisa seemed to actually face off with her in that abandoned office building?”

Leonard hummed, arching an eyebrow and staring off the side while he thought about it. “Let’s talk tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow. Sounds good.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'know, this chapter ended up growing like 3 new scenes when I read it through for the final edits tonight. The original draft had fewer emotional beats, I think, but I like this version better.
> 
> Anyhoo, I'm not actually *done* the next chapter. I was going to finish it before posting this one, but then I spent this weekend working on other stuff (whoops) and thought it would be cruel to delay this one for the sake of that one. So, uh, here you go :) Enjoy the angst :)))))
> 
> Also, on the off chance it's not clear, Len's reactions are *defensive* and he's *panicking* over the situation, over the disorientation and feeling vulnerable. That's why he's being such a dick. He needed (needs?) to clear his head a bit. He's refusing to acknowledge his own emotions. Like. At all. He'll get there.
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed this change in pace! 
> 
> ps - I'd like to believe I won't get ridiculous and split the final section into two chapters but knowing me it's a possibility. Idk. Just throwing it out there in case I do it.


	7. The World Doesn't Change Overnight

 

Len was… struggling. He could admit it, if only to himself, lying in bed and staring at the ceiling with no one else around.

After the initial shock had worn down, the anger and panic and total disorientation at coming back to himself, at realizing… well, all of it… the knee-jerk alarm from how _kind_ to Len they were, what he owed them, the pain of Lisa being young, the need for retribution, the need to push back against all of this—after all that had started settle, Len realized he was struggling with more than just the obvious.

He didn’t do feelings. It _wasn’t_ personal. It was just how it was, how it had to be. He’d tried, when he was young, once or twice, but got burned bad enough to learn his lesson. No strings attached. Get it out of your system. Get on with business.

That’s how it should’ve been with Barry. How he tried to make it.

Fine, his younger self had a crush. Had more than a crush. Had a deep admiration, a sort of awe. Not much trust, but at nineteen, Len hadn’t really been _capable_ of trust.

It should have gone away when he aged back up. He’d almost thought it had, but that had just been distraction, anger—embarrassment. He’d humiliated himself in front of Barry too many times to count over the course of the month, had tried to whore himself out, been jealous and petulant, been scared and needy. He’d practically begged for the man to turn him over his knee.

Len’s throat tightened with shame even thinking about it now. Not the sex, being eager and horny at nineteen. But _needing_ it. Needing Barry and all the affirmations he provided. Open and insecure, needing his comfort.

It rankled, all the more so because of how easily Barry had given it. Had never brought it up again, and wouldn’t, Len knew. Hugging him, pushing him away when ‘Lenny’ dropped to his knees, providing him with information on all the things he’d been so messed up about at that age. Never judging any of it, just smiling (sadly) at how pathetic he had been.

How could Barry have been attracted to _that_?

But then, it was Barry. He had chivalry and honor and compassion in spades. It was only natural he’d find something he wanted to protect about the younger Leonard. To want to nurse the spark of hope he still had at that age. That’s what Barry did, right? He’d suffered enough for a few lifetimes and persisted in spite of it, _hoped_ in spite of it. He knew he was imperfect. He blamed himself for each and every mistake, but survived to continue anyway. To try and make amends.

Len knew… he knew what part that was like. To survive and persist. The rest of it though…

What Joe had told him, about Barry as a teenager, about his mother, and father, and about what Barry had gone through just over the last year, with Zoom. He’d skimmed the details, Len knew now. He could remember the news now, still in Iron Heights when Zoom first got a hold of Barry. Remembered being concerned enough (not that he’d ever admit it) to go to Barry at Christmas, partly to make sure he was still in one piece. But back then, he hadn’t known what was going on, and still didn’t, not really. Who Zoom was, or why he, like another speedster before him, fixated on Barry, on trying to ruin him.

But Len almost understood. There was some part of him that wanted to ruin Barry Allen too. That wanted to stamp out his hope because it was irrepressible, almost painful to look at because it shone too bright and illuminated all the dark corners in himself instead. That’s how he’d felt after the first time they’d met. Drawn to Barry and like he couldn’t bear to be around him too long or else he’d start to itch to bring the younger man down to earth and make him see how bad the world really was.

Except Barry had seen how bad it was. Len realized that eventually. Had seen and kept going.

Fuck.

Without that history, hearing about it when Joe told him some of Barry’s history, it all just wrapped ‘Lenny’ up more. Made him need Barry more. Made him feel a sense of connection, a shared understanding, even if he hadn’t said it. Barry was like him, he’d thought—a survivor. And Barry _liked_ him, despite who he was and what he became, and maybe that was because he wasn’t so terrible as part of him thought.

He’d needed to believe that, then. Needed to believe he still had power over his future, over who he became, even if he… didn’t. He’d needed so much in that time for Barry to acknowledge his younger self’s reality. A reality that didn’t really exist. He knew it then, terrified somewhere deep down, and he knew it now, painful for different reasons.

It wasn’t like time travel. It was more like… temporary amnesia. Like he’d forgotten who he was after nineteen, but only for the span of a month until he recovered. The memories were still there, not to be confused with his _real_ time at that age, what had actually happened. But they were different, too, than his normal memories. Discontinuous with the rest of him, like a strange detour. And with emotions too big, things he’d gotten over years ago, wanting to find himself, to affirm who he _was_ —

Wasn’t. Not anymore.

He sighed, blinking at the square tiles of his ceiling. It wasn’t worth worrying about. What’s done was done.

In an hour, he’d get up, regardless of how little he’d slept. He’d get up, conduct some business, check in with some Rogues he hadn’t heard from yet—Mardon always was cagey, but at least Axel had stopped in since he got back—research some suitable targets, and finally get his ass over to STAR Labs to talk about this metahuman. Where Lisa would be, with Cisco and Caitlin, learning about how they studied all the things they did.

Honestly—didn’t those idiots care that Len and Lisa knew far far too much about their operations, now? That they knew them and their personalities, their loved ones, the details of Barry’s powers and the ins and outs of his daily schedule? That Len knew every nook and cranny of STAR Labs that weren’t closed off as unsafe for humans to visit? That he’d found the bodies in the makeshift morgue (jesus that had been a trip) and had more dirt on them than they could ever dream of?

Maybe they didn’t care. Because they knew he wouldn’t, couldn’t, really use it against them. Not now. Barry knew, on some level, that he had… well, what _they_ would call honor. It tasted sour in his mouth to even think it, but they knew it, and he did too. He wouldn’t hurt them so long as he owed them a debt like this, however tempting it might become in the future. He wouldn’t hurt Barry anyway, if he could help it, not with—

He sighed and sat up in bed, throwing back the covers. He gave up on that extra hour of sleep. Ruminating was no good for anything, certainly not focus.

He had shit to do, and pining over Barry Allen wasn’t on the list.

 

[ … ]

 

Seeing Lisa at STAR labs was something else.

She was eager to show him around as if he hadn’t just spent a month here too. Cisco and Caitlin seemed a little chagrined but mostly didn’t actually mind, from what he could tell. He realized before long that it was a Lisa-effect. If she was at his side, they were relaxed around him. If she wasn’t, they got shifty.

It was a little entertaining. He sort of wanted to test it. Was there a certain proximity, or how would it work if he was talking to Lisa but she was across the room? Watching her but she was in the next room over?

“Thanks for the free babysitting,” he had the presence of mind to say to Cisco after his unnecessary tour from Lisa, once she was settled down with Caitlin.

“Nah man, it’s great having her around.” He was a healthy distance from Len, but his pose wasn’t scared, so that was something.

“Gotta ask… the punning…”

“You noticed?” Cisco grinned.

“It was almost painful.”

“ _Someone_ had to pick up the slack since you were off your game.”

He snorted. “Thank you, Cisco.”

They shared a half-smile. Len was starting to wonder about that, specifically how it was so much easier to talk to Cisco, Caitlin, Wally, Iris, and even _Joe_ , compared to Barry. How he managed not to cut in with biting words, not to be an ass. He mused on that until the man himself arrived, the smell of ozone chasing him in. Len hadn’t realized he missed it.

“Hey—oh you’re already here.”

“One of us is punctual.” He winced internally. He tried again, before Barry could respond, “save any kittens from trees on your way over?”

No it was official, he had no idea how to play nice with others. But Barry laughed anyway and relaxed, as if he understood. “Seven, of course.”

“Only? For shame.”

This was easier. He knew how to do this.

Caitlin cleared her throat, “right— _well_ , why don’t we start talking about what you know about Lady Fountain of Youth, now that Barry’s here. His break will only last so long.”

He glanced at Lisa, set up in the side room watching a movie, and nodded. His experience with ‘Lady Fountain’ had been… odd, to say the least. The woman who started this whole mess.

“The metahuman… wanted my help.”

 

[ … ]

 

_The empty office space smelled stale and faintly of mold when Len iced down the door. He shouldn’t be surprised, really, considering how long it had been in disuse, but he still wrinkled his nose._

_“Split up?” Lisa asked by his side._

_“Sure. Let me know if you find the documents. I’ll start with this room.”_

_The place had closed down shop in a hurry and he had it on good authority that some information on a mark was left behind, innocuous in the space, something that no one would think to shred when they closed down._

_He was crouching, going through a filing cabinet when the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He fingered his gun and glanced behind him subtly. No one. He stood slow, glancing about. He heard it, what must’ve alerted him in the first place—fast pitched too-loud breathing, which couldn’t be Lisa._

_His eyes followed his ears before he thought about it, gun up as he turned and—_

_There she was. A young woman clutching the door frame, hand clutching her chest. She was pretty in a youthful sort of way but looked ragged, scared, dark hair falling out of a ponytail and eyes wide._

_“Please don’t shoot!”_

_He didn’t lower the gun, but glanced around it to get a better look at her. If he had to guess, he’d say she was probably Latina, and couldn’t be even in her mid-twenties yet. “Who’re you?”_

_“I—I need your help.”_

_That wasn’t what he was expecting to hear. Pretty much ever._

_“I asked who you are.”_

_“You’re Captain Cold, right?” She glanced behind her, down the hall, then stepped forward tentatively. He stiffened his gun arm._

_“Start talking, lady. How did you know I’d be here?”_

_She stared at the gun, looking close to tears, still holding her chest. “I just—I paid some people. I asked where you are—someone offered to tell me if I—”_

_“Who?”_

_“I don’t know—just please, we don’t have much time!”_

_He didn’t like the sound of that. But at the same time, “not my problem, lady.”_

_She let out a half-laugh half-sob, “Lady, that’s what they’re calling me. Lady Fountain of Youth.”_

_He narrowed his eyes. That rung a bell somewhere in the back of his mind, a news broadcast he hadn’t paid attention to. “You’re a metahuman?”_

_“Yes—please—”_

_“So you wanna be a Rogue?”_

_“No! Not that—I’m not a—I’m not a criminal. I need you to save me.”_

_He was getting a headache listening to her. “You’ve got the wrong guy, lady. Now scram, before I think twice about letting you go.”_

_“I can’t! I told you—they’ll be here soon!”_

_“And I’ll shoot soon if you don’t back off.”_

_“NO! No I’m scared of guns I—” she was crying. Great. “I have m-money, I’ll hire you—”_

_“Not a bodyguard—”_

_He heard voices down the hall behind her. Fucking perfect. She heard them too, eyes wide._

_“No,” she whispered, glancing behind her, backing into the room._

_“Someone followed you?”_

_She nodded. They were getting close, and calling her name. Isabelle, apparently. “Come out come out wherever you are!” They sounded like assholes. Lisa came in through the same door he had, behind Len and the girl._

_“Who’s that out there? What’s s going on?” she hissed, gun out. “Who is this?”_

_The girl whipped around with a squeak, stumbling back into a desk. She clattered an entire computer monitor over onto the ground with a sound that echoed across the uncarpeted floor. Len was already regretting not shooting her when she came in._

_“What is wrong with you?” Len growled, pointing his gun at her._

_“Guns scare me please I can’t control it when I’m—”_

_Two men came into the room, guns up. Len and Lisa had their guns leveled to them in seconds, each of them firing off a blast at the entranceway. The girl—Isabelle—gave a half-shriek and clutched her head, ducking down, sobbing more earnestly. She started to glow, blue in her chest._

_He grit his teeth and focused on the shouts from the hallway._

_“What the—who is in there?!”_

_“Could ask you the same question!” he called into the hall, moving to take up cover while Lise grabbed the girls arm and got her on her feet, shoved her behind a filing cabinet._

_“Is that—Snart?”_

_He rolled his eyes. “The one and only!”_

_Lisa shot him a look and he shrugged in apology._

_“Just send the girl out, Snart. We don’t want trouble.”_

_“Please don’t please don’t please I can’t—”_

_Len wasn’t a goddamn hero. That wasn’t his MO. But._

_Lisa caught his eye. Dammit._

_“Not happening, boys!”_

_A moment later, the shooting started. Him and Lisa with their guns, whoever these punks were with their own. He remembered hearing the girl scream and a blue light, a warm wave hit him, and…_

[ … ]

 

“Figure the other guys got the same treatment, and made off before me ‘n Lise woke up, or else they nabbed her.”

Team Flash looked disturbed by his story. Len couldn’t really blame them. He hadn’t gone into as many details as he could remember, but even glancing over some of them, it wasn’t exactly a pretty picture of her situation. He’d hesitated to even agree to help in part for this reason. The woman was on the run and didn’t want to be found. But Barry would do his job and play the hero and help her.

That and… Len couldn’t really say _no_ to Barry asking him for help, not right now. The least Len could do was assist in figuring out his _own_ case.

“Well at least we know she’s probably not doing what she’s doing on purpose?” Barry looked at the others for confirmation.

“We have to help her,” Caitlin agreed. Cisco nodded.

“We could always use a few more friendly metas in this city.”

“Right. Well. I’ll take my leave then,” Len offered, hoping that was that.

“Not so fast, Snart,” Cisco came around his console. “We still need a description, more details, anything that can help us find her. I’m gonna see if I can scrape security footage from nearby her attacks for you to try and ID her for us.”

“Oh, and we need any details you have on the men chasing her,” Caitlin added, pulling up something on her tablet.

Great.

“Are you coming over tonight?” Barry asked. Len pursed his lips.

“I’ll be there.”

“Cool. Cisco, Caitlin, let me know if anything turns up. Leonard… I guess I’ll see you later.”

 

[ … ]

 

“You ready to talk about it, Barr?” Joe asked, stirring the soup they’d be having for dinner.

Barry hesitated, then shook his head. “I’d rather not.”

“You been down since he grew back up.”

“I know.”

Joe sighed. “Look Barr, I don’t wanna know what all happened between you two, and I can’t pretend he’s got my blessing, but both ‘o you being doe-eyed and batting your lashes at each other—”

“There was no batting lashes.”

Joe snorted and did an impression, demonstrating, “‘Barry’s a hero’ ‘I’m worried about Lenny’ ‘He’s so nice to me’ ‘Do you think he’ll like the sweater I bought’—”

Barry tried to glare but laughed, lightly shoving his arm, “we didn’t say any of that.”

“Nah, but you might as well’ve.”

Barry sighed and shook his head, feeling a little better but, “it’s not the same now, Joe. Anything between us… he just wants to get it out of his system and move on.”

Joe snorted. “Right. Like that’s how that works.”

“Maybe it is, for some people.”

Joe shook his head, “you don’t give in to temptation with the one you’re soft on and find you like ‘em less _after_.”

Barry wondered if this was a pep talk or encouragement. He doubted Joe would be encouraging him to pursue Snart.

“I thought we didn’t have your blessing.”

He shrugged. “ _He’s_ got to earn it. You?” Joe looked at him, a little smile, a little sad. “You I just want to be happy. ‘N maybe you let yourself be distracted from all the hell o’ the last year with Lenny and maybe that’s all it was. But Barr, that dude made you _smile_.”

He opened his mouth and closed it, nodded after a minute. “Yeah, he did. But he already said: he doesn’t do feelings.”

Joe winced. “Asshole.”

Barry was startled into a laugh, and a second later Lisa poked her head into the kitchen. “I’m _huuuunnggry_.”

Joe smiled, already shifting gears. “Alright little miss, help Barry set the table.”

And that was that.

When Leonard came over after dinner, Barry tried to ignore how easy it was to flirt, just like at the lab earlier that day, joking about saving kittens and staring too long, until Caitlin had cleared her throat to get them back on track. He tried to ignore Len casually entering his space when Lisa demanded they look at her drawing, and tried not to rise to the bait when Len teased him, if subtly, about his crush. He also ignored Wally’s weird look between them when he got home, taking one glance before retreating up to his room, Lisa falling asleep on Len on the couch.

He ignored everything but how much his heart ached, feeling like a fool.

 

[ … ]

 

The next day started off easier.

Leonard was proving surprisingly useful (and helpful) with their metahuman problem. Barry was pretty confident it was part of his mental tally sheet—helping them with Lady Fountain would mean being less in their debt. He was okay with that though, especially after hearing that she was a scared girl in trouble—maybe from the mob—and not some criminal doing this for fun.

Friendly metas were painfully hard to come by, as it turned out. Barry breathed a little easier every time he found one.

But Leonard had sent out a message in his network (and the specifics of that network weren’t mentioned but Barry was _very_ curious) and it was less than a day after he came to STAR labs that someone had come to him with information on her whereabouts.

Apparently, he _had_ de-aged the guys after her when Snart was there, and was still on the loose. She’d contacted Mark _Mardon_ —Weather Wizard, of all people—but he’d told her to buzz off. He probably wouldn’t be happy knowing that his information was being funneled to the Flash, but Barry doubted that would ever get back to him. Since then, she was apparently camping out and laying low somewhere that Len knew.

Again with the helpfulness, Len actually agreed to come along in talking to her. Barry had asked, since she had approached Leonard first, and obviously had some reason for approaching the Rogues.

“Let me talk to her first,” he’d actually said, “and stay back. If she decides she _does_ want to be a Rogue, it won’t be pretty if she knows I’m working with you.”

Barry had crossed his arms, “so I should just let you recruit a new Rogue right under my nose.”

“We’ll see,” he smirked, and Barry hated how much it made him want to laugh and challenge him, push for more. He should really tone down the flirting though, so he reined himself in and nodded for Snart to lead the way. Barry would meet him at the location instead of waiting for him to get there.

And the location itself? Was pretty shabby. It was night when they went to check it out, a condemned apartment complex set for demolition. It was really no way for anyone to live. Barry cased it quickly, just the major areas, and wasn’t surprised to find groups of squatters on the main level in an open area, most of them too out of it to care that the Flash sped through and out.

There were some social issues even the Flash couldn’t fix, or know where to start. But he set that aside and stopped outside next to Leonard who was pulling off his goggles, having just parked his bike.

“Main floor is mostly homeless people, some of them high. Everyone seems pretty harmless. I don’t know what she looks like, so you’ll have to find her.”

“She’s up on the third. Just stay back.”

He did, waiting in the stairwell behind Snart, and then in the hall when the man pushed open the door of an apartment unit off its hinges, one of the only ones with a door at all. It creaked eerily, not much noise around here unless a train was going by, but there was the sound of shuffled, sudden movement inside and—

“Hey now, Lady,” Snart was still in the hall outside the door and had his arms up in a placating gesture, Barry could see from where he was standing. He itched to move forward but didn’t. “Didn’t even pull out the gun this time.”

It occurred to him to wonder if Snart was nervous, returning to the woman who’d de-aged him once already.

“S-Snart! You’re here!”

“So I am.”

“To shoot me?”

“Now why would I do that?” he lowered his arms though, leaning against the door frame.

“Why _are_ you here?”

“Curious,” he glanced to the side, to Barry, then away quickly. “Spent a month dealing with what you did to me, wouldn’t mind you fixing my sister.”

“I… I can’t. I’m so sorry I don’t know how to—”

He held up his hand to forestall her. “Not that practiced yet?”

“No…”

He nodded. Barry realized he was good at this. Talking to terrified people. He wondered just how young the meta was. An adult, Snart had said, but with how nervous she was, Barry was almost doubting that.

“I _seem_ to recall you asking me for assistance.”

“You’ll actually help me?!” There was more shuffling and her voice got louder, closer, and Len held up a hand again but it was more of a warning this time, face harder. Barry was almost relishing how much he got to stare and study Leonard, to watch him work.

“I _didn’t_ say that. But tell me, you’re not looking to be a Rogue, still?”

There was quiet, for a moment, and the woman’s voice was more wavering when she answered, “I don’t… I don’t want to kill anyone. I don’t want to _hurt_ anyone. If you want me to help you steal things I—I can, I will, I just—”

“You don’t _want_ to be a criminal.”

She didn’t answer verbally, but Leonard sighed all the same and Barry figured she was shaking her head. His own heart was aching and he stepped forward, wanting to help. Len shot him a warning look but he was already in the doorway.

“You don’t have to be,” he said gently.

And the girl—oh the girl, ponytailed hair and stained t-shirt and jeans under a green jacket, warm brown skin and deep brown eyes, looking painfully young—dropped into a terrified expression, stumbling backwards.

“No please no please don’t arrest me—” she was about to cry, eyes wide and round and Barry noticed her skin start to glow, just slightly, alarm mounting. Snart took a step back and Barry took one forward, hands up like Snart’s had been, wondering what the hell—

“No no, you’re okay, I’m not gonna hurt you—”

“Stay back! Stay back or I’ll turn you into a _child_!” Tears were starting to leak down her face already but the glow—it was starting in her chest—was getting brighter and he backpedaled a step, arms up sharper. She was panicking.

“ _No_ one has to get de-aged today, Fountain, that’s not—”

“My _name_ isn’t Lady _Fountain_!”

Shit.

“And I’m _not_ going to prison!”

“You don’t have to!” he turned to Snart for confirmation, eyes wide, but the man had a tight jaw and a hand on his gun, focused entirely on the meta. “You don’t have to go to prison, just tell me your name and I’ll—”

“You’ll what?!” She raised both her arms forward, blue glow in her hands, “you’ll put me in that _private_ prison where you keep the metas you don’t like?!”

Oh shit.

“We’ve all heard the stories, Flash! How you treat metas, how you betrayed us! I’m not going to be another poster child for the protestors—I’m _NOT—_ ”

The speedforce kicked into his veins. He saw the glow spreading out in slow motion and didn’t hesitate, just grabbed Leonard off his feet and ran. Out of the apartment, out of the building, down the block, down another, into an alleyway and finally to a standstill, breathing heavy with Snart back on his feet.

“Please,” he huffed, “tell me you’re the right age.”

Snart looked queasy, “I hate it when you do that.”

“Saved your ass.”

The man scowled. He was definitely the right age.

“Barr?” Cisco was in his ear. “You guys good?”

He clicked the comms. “I think so man. Just hold on, I’ll grab Snart and we’ll head back to STAR labs to—”

“No way. Not going for another ride, thanks.”

Barry scowled at him. “It took thirty minutes for you to get here from the lab, I don’t want to wait to debrief—”

“Not interested in going back to your lab, Barry. She made her position clear.”

“She needs _help_.”

Sirens picked up in the distance. Len stiffened. “Looks like we won’t be going back there for a while.”

Caitlin’s voice was in his ear next, “neither of you should anyway—her temporal fields don’t dissipate immediately. The police know that, they’ll keep the area clear until it’s gone.”

“Right.”

Len was frowning, still focused on his own conundrum. “Guess I’ll have to wait to get my bike.”

“So let me take you back to STAR—”

“Not interested. She’s a Flash-detractor, so you might as well butt out, and my work here is done.”

“A… what?”

Len eyed him.

“What’s a Flash-detractor? Cisco, have you heard of that?”

“Uhh…” Cisco sounded guilty on the comms.

“You really don’t know.” Len’s voice was flat, and it wasn’t really a question but Barry shook his head.

A police car drove right past the alley they were in, jolting them both with its bright lights, sirens on silent.

Barry swallowed. “Any place closer than STAR Labs we can talk?”

Leonard narrowed his eyes but nodded and rattled off an address.

“Cisco?” Barry poked his comms.

“Yeah man?” his voice sounded a little strained. Barry wondered—suspected—if he knew what this detractor stuff was all about.

“Why don’t you guys call it a night over there? I’m gonna go off comms for a while.”

“Sure thing.”

He picked up Snart and sped off.

 

[ … ]

 

“Turns out closing my eyes makes that less terrible.”

Barry let out a little huff though his nose. He would’ve laughed but felt too distracted. His cowl was pushed down and he glanced around the smallish space, a rundown little walkup with pretty sparse furnishings.

“This a safehouse?”

“Was. I’ll be changing it up now that you know where it is.”

Barry rolled his eyes, “you know I won’t track you here.”

“Other Rogues use it.”

Ah. Right. Because Len was still in charge of a bunch of criminal metahumans, somehow. It wasn’t that it was hard to reconcile, especially when looking at him in that parka (shrugging it off now) with the cold gun on his thigh, goggles dangling from his neck and a pinched look on his face. It was just that he was so much more than that, even _as_ Captain Cold, that Barry forgot to think about that part, sometimes.

“So… what was up with her? She freaked as soon as she saw me.”

“Which was why you should’ve let me _handle_ it instead of butting in.”

“She said she didn’t want to be a criminal,” Barry frowned, “I was trying to tell her she had other options.”

Leonard scoffed, “and you expected her to believe you, just like that.”

He was missing something. “Why not?”

Len leaned to half-sitting on the armrest of a lounging chair without actually sitting in it, crossing his arms. “Some people don’t trust as easily as you do, Barry.”

He frowned. He didn’t… he probably did, from Snart’s estimation. He’d been burned for it enough times, trusting Dr. Wells, trusting ‘Jay’ when he knew in his gut that he shouldn’t. Trusting Snart, too, but he didn’t have it in him to regret that as much, not after everything that had come of it in the past year and a bit.

“She was trusting you just fine,” he settled on.

Len frowned. “No one said she’s the sharpest tool in the shed.”

“Just tell me what you meant about a Flash-detractor.”

He pursed his lips and glanced away, arching an eyebrow. “Not everyone in this city likes the Flash, holidays and coffees to the contrary.”

“ _Criminals_ don’t like the Flash.”

“ _Metahumans_ don’t like the Flash.”

Barry felt his stomach tighten, just a little. “I help metahumans.”

“You put metahumans in Iron Heights. You helped _create_ the metahuman wing.”

“I—those are _criminals_ —people who’ve tried to kill others! Or _actual_ murderers.”

“And your pipeline?”

Barry hesitated. He knew… he’d had this argument with Joe before. He knew it wasn’t ideal. Wasn’t great (or good) in any sense. “We were trying to save lives. And I _know_ —I know, ‘tell that to Simmons’, right?”

“I didn’t say that.” But he glanced at Barry, looking him in the eye, and they both knew Leonard didn’t have to say it, or any of the rest of it. “Tell me, Barry… did you actually lock up a man named Henry Hewitt just for seeing your face?”

He dropped his jaw, then snapped it closed. “I—it _wasn’t_ like that, Leonard. He tried to kill me, and the rest of us, and Dr. Stein.”

Leonard made that little humming noise that made Barry feel small. He set his jaw, pushed forward. “None of us hurt Henry, even after he tried to kill us. We let him cool down and made sure he wouldn’t hurt anyone else before releasing him.”

“I found the morgue.”

“The—…oh.”

“Accidents happen.”

Barry glanced at his hands. “It’s not like—how do people out there, metas or whatever, who’s even talking about…”

Len shifted his pose. “Word gets around, Barry. The metas I liberated weren’t quiet about their treatment. Mr. Hewitt’s spoken to a few other metahumans to steer clear of your team, whispers that made it to my Rogues, among others. And after that business with Zoom…”

Barry’s head snapped up, “what’s he got to do with this?”

“What doesn’t he?”

Barry shook his head, confused.

“ _How_ many metas did you put in prison when he and his friends went on a rampage?”

“How many—they were terrorizing the city!”

“And you single-handedly put them all away.”

“So?”

Leonard stood up, took a step away from the plush chair, looking almost angry, voice sharper, “ _so_ , Barry, they see your power and they are _afraid of you_. Zoom was a savior to some of them. A meta who fought the police and the Flash and _won_. Who promised them they didn’t have to hide themselves.”

“ _Hide_? They don’t have to hide if they’re not committing crimes!”

“You’re not that _ignorant_ , Barry.” He actually seemed to care, stepping closer, eyes narrowed in either anger or incredulity. “Metahumans are protested against on the news, demonstrations at city hall and to the governor. People lose their jobs, their families over developing powers. They don’t have to be criminals—metahuman already means the same thing, to most of Central City.”

“But that’s…” Barry was shaking his head. He could see it, now, in technicolor. But still, “I _help_ people.”

His voice dropping to something cold and completely serious. “The Flash is the boogeyman in my circles, Barry. They’re afraid of me _because_ I’m not afraid of you. Because I’m human and I can still slow you down. _That’s_ what gives the Rogues power and obviously, that’s what Lady Fountain sought us out for. She can protect herself from the mafia—it’s _you_ she’s scared of.”

Barry felt sick. Sick and angry. Bitter with all of it. “All I’ve ever done is save lives. If people weren’t criminals, if they didn’t want to hurt others—”

“Get over your black and white view of justice, Barry.”

“I don’t—”

“You do, skewed around your own rules instead of laws. Criminals aren’t always evil, and cops aren’t always good people. Lady Fountain is a young, _criminal_ , Latina metahuman in a world where law enforcement will hate her for being all of those things. You’re the embodiment of everything she’s not.”

“So that’s it.” Barry let out an angry laugh, stepping away and pulling at his hair. It helped create a contrast to everything roiling around inside of him, the angry tears trying to prick at his eyes. He had to move, restless, not quite pacing in the small room. “The people I want to help are scared of me. The friendly metahumans I didn’t think existed are just hiding because they think I’m some kind of monster who doesn’t care about right and wrong, just justice and punishment? That’s what you’re saying.”

Leonard tilted his head. “Feeling sorry for yourself?”

“Oh fuck you,” he rolled out, bitter as hell and not wanting to be called on it, not when it smarted as bad as it did. Len’s eyes widened a bit but Barry wasn’t in the mood, he really wasn’t. “I’m allowed to be angry that every single time I try to do the right thing, it backfires. It backfired with the transporting the metas, with the singularity, with trusting Jay—trusting _Zoom_ —going to Earth 2—with _everything_. And now with this. Let me be pissed off.”

Leonard looked annoyed, “am I supposed to give you a pep talk now? If so I’m not that guy.”

“Yeah I wouldn’t expect it from you, it backfired there too.”

He got sharper, tense and glaring. “’N when did I say that?”

Barry stopped pacing and looked at him, incredulous. “Really, Snart? You didn’t _have_ to. I do my best to protect you, to be your _friend_ , I let myself care about you and you age back up and can’t stand me? Tell me how that didn’t blow up in my face.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“So? We both know you’re only helping me because you want us to be even. You look like you’re ready to punch me half the time, and the other half you’re telling me you want to get me out of your system.”

He wasn’t sure (except he was) how this became about him and Len. Because he could focus on that. On this. The rest of it was too much, too fresh, but it was bleeding into this now, hurts and frustrations blending together.

At least Snart seemed pissed too, if a quiet kind of angry. “That’s _not_ because I can’t stand you.”

“Then what is it?!” Barry half-shouted. He was boiling over and Leonard wasn’t a fair target but he might as well get this out since they were here. “You’re more relaxed around _Joe_ than you are around me and you’re practically _friends_ with Wally and _laughing_ with Cisco but the only time you’re not a dick to me is if we’re in a room full of people so if you don’t hate me then what is it?”

Leonard was tense and tight and Barry was in his space and maybe he should back down, maybe he shouldn’t even be here but he was _tired._ Tired and angry. Angry at hearing that there were people in this city who were more afraid of him than the man who killed his father right in front of him, who _liked_ Zoom, people who’d take Captain Cold’s help and run screaming from the Flash.

Angry that Snart was punishing him for trying his best too, when the man actually knew him, knew better. Or acted like he did.

“It’s _you_ , Barry.”

“Great,” he sounded scathing, even to his own ears. “Glad to know I’m so—”

“It’s your fucking _heart_.”

“Oh so because I have a crush? Well lemme just—”

“Shut up. Just shut—” He growled it out and moved into Barry’s space too, sharp enough that Barry took a step back, but Snart grabbed him by the fabric of his cowl loose around his neck and kept him there, up close and quiet. “—up. It’s because you _cared_ about me, Barry. Because you look at me like you still do and for god’s sake, you said it was humiliating for you to want me? Don’t you get how humiliated _I_ was over the past month? How much a shitty little brat I know I was, how _pathetic_ I was mooning over you, being _saved_ by you at every turn and holding onto your every word, crying into your goddamn shoulder because I had a bad dream like some _child_.”

He said it low and hissed and _angry_ and Barry’s jaw was hanging. He wasn’t placated.

“You feel _vulnerable_?!” He latched on to Snart’s wrists on his suit, “ _that’s_ your problem?! That I saw you being human and having real emotions—”

“ _Yes._ ”

And Barry—fuck, he just laughed. Took a step back, out of Snart’s grasps and dragged both hands through his hair, down his face. He couldn’t believe this. And if Snart was looking at him guarded and tight, so what.

“Jesus you’re such a mess, you know that? But I am too. I don’t get how you don’t see it.”

“…what’re you talking about?”

“ _Me._ Everyone knows it! I feel vulnerable all the time!” He shook his head. It was funny. It wasn’t. “That night you woke up from a nightmare? I woke up confused because I was sure _I_ was the one dreaming. I wasn’t lying when I said I have them—I do, all the goddamn time. I get so overwhelmed I spend entire nights running and I—”

He shouldn’t be saying this. He shouldn’t be so raw but he _was_ and it was going to make him feel like crap to admit it but who the hell cared.

“You hold it over my head _constantly_ about my crush on you—you think that doesn’t make me vulnerable? You think being around you doesn’t make me feel like an open book sometimes? You lived with me too and you saw—jesus, you wanna know _why_ you didn’t see me ‘weak’?”

He stepped back, arms wide and shoulders up, laying it out there. “Because of _you_. I got to spend a month _distracting_ myself from the fact that my father died right in front of me three months ago—that I had to watch Zoom do that, _just_ to make me angry! That he almost took _everything_ from me. He took my speed, my father, the safety of everyone I love and I have been overwhelmed ever since the first time I fought him, waking up screaming ever since he broke my back and I—”

Fuck, Leonard was going to think he was out of his tree.

“Goddammit,” he shook his head, calmer, bitter but not at anyone else anymore, just with himself. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this. But look, Leonard, I feel weak too, I have _scars_ too. Even if they don’t show up on my skin anymore. You just didn’t see it because having you and Lisa to distract me from it felt like one good thing I was actually doing right, that was making me happy again.”

Leonard was just there, half a step away with narrowed eyes, calculating as ever. “Quite the… declaration.”

Barry laughed at himself, feeling brittle. “Overshare, I know.”

“I didn’t say I minded, Barry. Helps level that particular playing field.”

Great. “This mean you’re gonna stop being such an asshole?”

Len titled his head but there was a bit of a smirk on his lips, something more teasing (Barry hoped) in his eyes. “I’ll think about it.”

His could breathe a little easier. Leonard didn’t hate him. Maybe it was egotistical to think he _had_ , that it was all about him anyway.

But there was a tumult inside of him still, nervous and, yeah— _vulnerable_. Hurt and confused and not even wanting to touch any of that with the meta and her fear of him, with Zoom, still feeling like an open wound, even now.

He just didn’t want to think anymore, period. So, like the idiot that he was, he stepped forward and kissed Leonard.

 

[ … ]

 

Leonard started, inhaled. He wasn’t expecting Barry to kiss him. But he wasn’t about to complain. Barry moved to pull back and Len captured his face in his hands, tilted it for better access to his mouth, deepening the kiss. Barry didn’t seem to mind, giving as good as he got, moving with Len as he stepped forward, three short steps and he had Barry pinned against the wall, taking full advantage. He snaked his arms around Len’s shoulders, angling their bodies closer together.

He knew it was a terrible idea. Barry had to know too. Len was long past caring.

They kissed and it was familiar in a way that almost frustrated him, not just from the other night in Barry’s kitchen but before, younger, fumbling his way around Barry’s mouth and body. He knew what he was doing now, slid a hand into Barry’s hair and the other down his body, used his tongue to make Barry moan, kissed him until the other man was pulling back, gasping in air.

Len smirked and moved to his jaw, the soft skin of his neck. Barry shivered.

“This is a bad idea, right?”

“Mmm…” Len nuzzled his neck, feeling the light graze of Barry’s stubble. Barry swallowed. “For you maybe.”

Barry let out a strangled laugh that turned into a moan halfway through, when Len’s teeth grazed his pulse point. “You want this?”

Len’s hand clenched automatically against Barry’s waist, frustrated by the question. “I’m done feeling weak, Barry—and _this_? I intend to show you _just_ how capable I am.”

“Ha— _ah_ —” Barry gasped when Len cut off his answer by sucking hard at his neck to punctuate that point. His hands tightened on the back of Len’s sweater. He needed this as bad as Len did. Worse, maybe. “Well, so long as your motives are selfish.”

Len chuckled against his throat but pulled back to look him in the eye. “ _Entirely_.”

Barry let out a startled laugh and smiled crookedly. “Just be gentle when you break my heart.”

Len felt his chest tense and pushed the feeling aside, down, trying to crush it as he moved back it, lips hovering over Barry’s, waiting for confirmation. “That a yes then, Barry?”

He kissed Len again, more than enough of an answer. He kissed and didn’t protest when Len found and pulled at the zipper on his suit, giving him access to his chest, his body. He wondered, and immediately tried _not_ to wonder, if it would be strange for Barry, having slept with him already, having it be different now?

He growled in his throat and pushed that aside, resolved to teach Barry about who he was _now_ , and how vulnerable he _wasn’t_. Resolved to take care of what Barry needed, this time.

He pushed Barry’s jacket off his shoulders, raked his teeth over his earlobe. “So tell me… just how many times back to back _can_ you cum?”

Barry shivered against him, rolling his hips just a little, almost unconsciously but then he was pulling Len in closer for friction, groaning when he got some. “A couple.”

“Mm.” Len’s hands dropped to grip his ass outside the suit, palming it and pulling their hips flush, pulling _them_ flush, “a couple it is.”

Barry laughed then moaned, Len moving to cup the outline of his cock tenting his suit, going for the zipper. Barry went with the flow, letting Len pull him out, stroke him, clutching Len’s sweater and biting his shoulder and Len chuckled low, half convinced Barry was barely holding it together already. His other hand slipped down the back of Barry’s pants, under his underwear to knead the flesh of his ass, complimenting how tight the muscle was, voice thick with innuendo. He wished he’d taken the time to take off his gloves so he had Barry’s bare flesh against his own, but there was something about doing this with his leather gloves still on that was going straight to his cock.

His fingers grazed further in, between his cheeks and Barry spread his legs wider, so accommodating, letting out the quietest whimper when Len’s hand on his cock was matched by a finger teasing against his hole.

He swore quietly when Len circled it, hands clenching and unclenching in Len’s sweater. “I can’t believe you’re still wearing gloves.”

Len hummed, “you don’t seem to mind.”

He pushed his finger against Barry’s entrance but he knew it wouldn’t press in, not without lube, not much more than it already was. It was teasing, cruel like he wanted it to be, just getting Barry riled up.

“Please tell me you have lube in this place,” Barry gasped, rocking his hips back onto Len’s finger, obviously trying to keep himself in check. It was making Len’s cock ache, how sensitive Barry was, how eager.

“Everything we need.”

Barry kissed him again, pulling him in with a fist curled in the front of his sweater. Len went willingly, kissing him but then pulling back, too focused on his hand, on Barry’s slick precum making his fist slide easier on his cock, moving fast, listening to his occasional moan turn into panted breaths, hitching with a not-quite whine. He was _close_. He pressed the finger against Barry’s hole harder, just enough to breach him, making him contract around the digit and he moaned into Len’s neck, shaking, holding on as he came all over Len’s black leather glove.

He pulled his hands away and stepped back with a smirk. Barry was a beautiful mess—hair askew, flushed, looking a little dazed, pants undone and cock hanging out.

“Pants off.”

Len stripped off his gloves and dropped them on the ground. Barry pushed his hair back and looked ready to laugh, a million times more relaxed than he’d been even minutes ago, ranting about things outside of his control. Now he was grinning and hopping (bouncing on one leg, almost tripping) out of his pants. Len detached the cold gun from his leg and set it aside.

“Lube’s in the side table. Get it.”

Barry raised his eyebrows, “giving orders?”

“So long as you follow them.”

He snorted but obliged, using his speed, exactly what Len intended. He pulled out his own cock, delighted at how compliant Barry was proving, revelling in it. He hoped Barry was up for what he was about to ask for, had gotten off to thinking about more than once since re-aging.

“I wanna watch you come,” he paused, catching Barry’s gaze, “from sucking my cock. Again.” He acknowledged that last bit, still almost disbelieving how much Barry had gotten off from sucking him down before.

And Barry actually choked out a laugh, flushing in an entirely new way. Len didn’t miss that his cock twitched. He was exquisitely naked, after all. “Thought you wanted to fuck me.”

Len wrapped a hand into his hair and pulled him in for a sloppy kiss, one aiming to dominate, if he was being honest. “After.”

“Jesus, you weren’t kidding getting me off a few times.”

No, he wasn’t. “Finger yourself while you’re going down on me.”

As much as he wanted to prep Barry himself, just the thought was enough to make his body tense in an entirely too pleasant way.

And Barry raised his eyebrows but didn’t argue. Len wasn’t entirely surprised. He could tell Barry needed this, to let go, have someone else take charge of him and ring him out. Getting off on submission. Len couldn’t pretend it didn’t turn him on more too, watching Barry drop to his knees on the hard carpet, full of grace even in his, taking Len into his mouth.

He inhaled sharply, hand soft in Barry’s hair as he watched him slick up his own digits and sort out the awkward angle, keeping Len in his mouth as he reached behind himself, back arching.

He was gorgeous.

Len groaned, he couldn’t help it, Barry’s mouth hot but sloppy around him, distracted by his own fingers. Len’s hands found the sides of his head, just trying to hold him steady but Barry's face flushed under the gesture, color going down to his chest, and his mouth started to relax, hanging open, head tilted slightly back and—

Fuck that was permission. An _invitation._ Len swore, not about to spurn the opportunity, and held Barry’s head still in his hands and started— _gently_ —to thrust in and out. Barry moaned, tongue sliding along the underside, and Len knew it for sure, then, that he got off on feeling used.

The thought made him almost dizzy with lust.

“God you’re sexy.”

He made a noise around Len’s cock, swallowing around it, throat convulsing. Len groaned and pressed forward a little harder, testing his boundaries. Barry moaned again, shifting and Len heard a pleasant slick sound, kept his eyes open to watch Barry struggle with the angle, trying to thrust his fingers into himself, unable to properly fuck back on them and—

His fingers vibrated and his whole body shuddered at the same time. Len’s eyes widened, remembering that exact feeling even as Barry pulled his mouth back from Len’s cock to groan and suck in a breath, other hand clutching Len’s thigh.

“Jesus, Barry.”

Barry’s eyes flew open, looking up at Len. His eyes were lidded, lower lip hanging and Len wanted to suck on it but it was too far away. His thumb caught it instead, tracing it, red and swollen, slick with saliva, rubbing back and forth and he smirked.

“Do that again.”

Barry did, vibrating again, gasping, eyes widened but unseeing and Len could get off just on _watching_.

“Don’t stop.”

He didn’t, so obliging, gasps turning fast into whines. Len had a hand around his own cock, stroking, and he pressed it back against Barry’s lips.

He moaned and opened them, let Len thrust into his mouth, trying to suck.

“You’re so fucking pretty with your lips around my cock, Barry. So pretty for me.”

God he was getting too into this, losing himself to the tantalizing pull of Barry’s obedience, of him taking Len in. He could cum like this, too easily, holding himself back now. He was almost too eager, cock hitting the back of Barry’s throat again but Barry rolled with it, rocked his hips back onto his fingers, vibrated again and his hand flew off Len’s thigh and to his own cock, stroking so fast it was a blur.

Len swore and held his head again, thrust in once, twice, then held himself there in Barry’s mouth, forcing himself not to cum as Barry’s eyes rolled back and he shuddered out his own orgasm, making a mess of the carpet, shaking.

Len stepped back with a groan, still on edge, while Barry caught his breath, shuddering.

“Now _that_ was something, Barry.” Something he wanted to repeat every day for the rest of his life, if possible.

Barry looked at the mess of his hand, full of his cum, and shot a look at Len. “You really get off on being dominant, don’t you?”

He wasn’t about to deny it, “you weren’t complaining a minute ago. Seem to recall you enjoying it.”

He wondered if he’d gone too far though, the kink completely undiscussed. Barry had seemed fully into it, but now he rested his forehead against Len’s thigh, still wearing his black jeans, even if they were pulled halfway down. “I didn’t say I don’t. But only people who are nice to me outside the bedroom get to boss me around in it.”

Ah. More than reasonable, even if it meant he had to rein in that particular urge. It wasn’t a hardship though, stroking his fingers gently through Barry’s hair. “That’s fair. But speaking of bedrooms, Barry, can I still convince you to join me there?”

Probably worth double-checking. He _had_ cum twice already and Len wasn’t sure if he had a policy on getting fucked by people who _weren’t_ nice who enjoyed giving him commands far too much.

But Barry grinned up at him, right as rain. “Oh _hell_ yes. I make a terrible decision and I plan to get my money’s worth if I’m gonna regret it later anyway.”

Len actually laughed. He had to remember, Barry wasn’t just Barry, he was also the Flash, which meant he was a reckless idiot. No wonder they made such a good pair.

Not that he wanted to examine that either. So he didn’t, just turned and headed toward the room, trusting Barry to follow. Which he did. And as soon as he was sitting on the bed, Barry was straddling him, pushing him back and kissing him again, deep and taking control this time. Len was surprised at how easy it was to let him, to take off his sweater (not his t-shirt) and let Barry help him work his pants down. Neither of them had much patience left.

He groaned when Barry rolled the condom on for him, stroking his cock hard and sure while he did, grinning cheekily at Len before climbing on top of him once more.

Oh. Oh Barry was going to ride him.

Len found he had _zero_ complaints about that, hands snapping to Barry’s hips. He was a picture, leaning back, gripping the base of Len’s cock and lowering himself onto it. Len’s fingers dug hard into his hips and they both hissed at the sensation, the tightness of his entrance. Len hoped he’d prepped himself enough, that he was slick and he _was_ , the head pressing into the tight—fuck, so tight—heat.

“ _F-_ uck—” Barry swore, dropping himself down another inch on shaky legs. Len knew he was thick, knew he was stretching Barry, but god it was taking every ounce of self-control he had not to thrust up into that heat. Barry took him another inch, and then another, and Len massaged his thighs and coaxed them wider, spread them so Barry would fall a little further onto Len, impaling himself.

“ _God_ , Barry.”

He groaned and clenched and Len gasped and jerked up, rolled his hips into Barry and they both moaned. Barry shuddered, fully impaled, and Len rocked slightly, up to the hilt in clenching heat, unbearably tight all around him.

“Leonard.”

The sound of his name, whimpered like that, was going to drive him wild. He grit his teeth and forced himself not to roll them over and bear down into Barry while the other man shifted for better leverage, gasping, leaning forward so he could hold himself up with his arms, fingers clutching the sheets on either side of Len. He stroked Barry’s sides, making him shiver, and found his hips again when he started to move, to thrust down, riding him.

Then Len just held on, met his thrusts, rocking up. Barry took what he needed, setting the pace and making them both moan when he rolled down to take Len deep, groaning when he got the angle right and Len’s cock dragged his prostate, and then he was fucking down harder, faster. Len clutched his hips but not to slow him down, urging him on, whispering to him to take it, to fuck him, but Barry didn’t seem to need much encouragement, picking up speed.

Len was close, almost painfully close, holding himself back and trying to drag this out, sweating. But Barry was tensing and Len knew he wouldn’t last much longer either, sensitive as he seemed to be—what a gift, Len’s stomach tightened at just the thought, sympathetic to the sensitization, hard as he could be inside of Barry, inside that slick heat clenching rhythmically around him. Len took him in hand, sure movements with a little twist, slick with cum and precum, not wasting time.

Barry swore, arched, and his entire body vibrated.

Len surged up into him, swearing, thrusting hard and erratic, fingers digging into his thigh and hand stilling on his cock, too distracted but Barry barely needed it, thrusting himself into it, arching up—

Len snapped his hips up harder and swore, arched so hard it pushed Barry further up off the bed, eyes rolling back, orgasm taking over. He was moaning, holding on, barely noticing Barry shooting cum across Len’s shirt as Len he inhaled and shuddered, rocking his hips and finishing inside him.

 

[ … ]

 

After a moment of catching their breath, Barry collapsed onto his elbows, still on top of Len. He chuckled low, quiet next to Barry’s ear. “Never actually managed to cum at the same time as someone before.”

Barry swallowed, feeling almost shaky with how over-sensitized he was, legs like jello. “Yeah. Well, it helps when you’re with someone as sensitive as me.”

“And here I thought you were just into me cumming in you.”

He rolled his hips up again, just a little, and Barry shuddered. “God.”

“Knew it.”

“Fuck you.”

“Hmm.”

Barry was glad he avoided the obvious comment about how they just did that and finally pulled himself off Len and collapsed onto the bed next to him. The other man sat up, took one look at the mess on his shirt, and sighed.

“Clean up time.”

He was headed for the bathroom before Barry could make a jibe about after-sex cuddling, grabbing a clean shirt and underwear from somewhere in the dresser standing there and Barry decided to let himself enjoy laying there for a moment. When Len came back he went to clean himself up, finding his underwear along the way and hauling them on after he washed up, leaving the rest of the Flash suit on the ground. Len was on his back on the bed when Barry got back to the room, breathing deep but obviously not asleep, calves dangling over the side of the bed, like he’d sat down and remembered he was exhausted and decided to lay back.

Barry flopped down onto his back next to Len, giving himself a moment in the afterglow, however delayed it was. If the man was laying down and enjoying a quiet moment, Barry could too.

“That felt amazing.”

“You seem surprised.”

Barry smiled at the response, the light tease. Everything felt easier now. “Not surprised. Just… sated.”

He really was. So much of the anger and exhaustion from before had melted away, replaced with the post-orgasmic buzz. He’d really needed this.

“I’m surprised you let me, all things considered,” Len drawled. Back to drawling.

He sighed. “You going to call me easy again?”

“If the shoe fits…”

Barry snorted and shook his head, content enough to let that one slide. They were quiet for a few minutes. He more felt than thought about the atmosphere in Len shifting to something a little more tense. He didn’t _move_ , not even a muscle really, but there was a palpable change in the air by the time he asked,

“Are you in love with me, Barry?” His voice was quiet but clear, real, no lilting tease. It was totally out of the blue but completely deserved. Completely obvious.

Barry’s throat stuck. Fuck. He threw an arm over his eyes. “Probably. Yeah.”

Leonard’s voice was strained now, “how in the hell did _that_ happen?”

He laughed; it sounded wrong to his own ears. “If I knew, I’d tell you. You were just… you. That’s all it took.”

Leonard was silent.

Barry sighed, swallowed down his feelings, and sat up. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

He moved to dress, ignoring Leonard sitting up and watching him. He’d use his speed but it would feel too much like running. They didn’t speak, but Leonard actually walked him to the door, which was… something.

“Thanks,” Barry said. Len gave him a quizzical look, and he wasn’t so much of a saint that he could avoid the dig. So he smiled, too sharp. “For being gentle.”

Then he was gone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You ever cackle maniacally after writing a line? Yeah, that ending line was fun for me. Sorry guys.
> 
> This chapter is obviously a bit of a shake up for some things in Barry's world, and a deeper look at where his head has been at this whole time. Now that Len is getting himself back to a more even keel, we realize just how Barry's been struggling, and get the contrast of how much he was relying on the routine he developed with Lenny to keep him distracted, to have something positive to focus on.
> 
> And of course, the meta, and the Flash-detractors. There was a discussion on tumblr a while back about that, about whether there are metahumans who would see the Flash as a menace and be scared of him, or see him as betraying other metas. They can't *all* be criminals. It caused me to revise some of my plans for this story, and of course there's an intersection there. Barry's a cis white male on the right side of the law, even if he's not straight, and while he's aware of his privilege, he sometimes forgets that other people are going to have *very* different experiences with law enforcement, and thus a very different view of a 'hero' like the Flash who works alongside them to catch metahumans.
> 
> I wasn't sure about the condemned apartment building and the squatters there, except that it helps create the contrast between Barry's rosier world and the sometimes harsh realities of society and inequality? Idk, not 100% it works but I went with it anyway because I wasn't sure how to improve it.
> 
> But yeah, this chapter ended up... longer than intended, which is why I had to split it. This one is actually almost 10,500 words on it's own, which is embarrassing because I thought it was going to be like barely 8k, but scenes kept getting added. The final one should actually be genuinely a bit shorter though. That's just a byproduct of picking the right place to cut it.
> 
> Anyhoo, I've probably said enough. Thanks for your patience with me having to extend this by one segment, and hope I didn't break any hearts at the end of this chapter :))))) I promise the boys will figure out their shit ASAP.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Comments are love <3


	8. People Have Always Just Been People

 

Len’s heart hadn’t stopped hammering since Barry said yes. Since he said he loved him. Tight and hard and fast in his chest like his chest was too small to hold it, like it was constrained and aching and the feeling was painful, physically painful.

He has no idea what to do. Where to go from here.

What do you do when someone’s in love with you? Someone who really shouldn’t be. Someone who’s in love with you for all the wrong reasons, parts of who he used to be and wasn’t anymore.

He watched Barry dress and leave, feeling untethered. He was sure there were words, but he didn’t know them.

It was for the best.

Barry loved Lenny. Not Len. He just didn’t realize it yet. That they weren’t the same.

But then.

“Thanks… for being gentle.”

He was gone before Len could get any words out, and he was left saying “I’m sorry” to empty air.

Fuck.

His hands shook. His vision narrowed on the door, belatedly closing it on autopilot. He swallowed.

He’d ruined everything.

It couldn’t be right. Barry couldn’t be heartbroken over him. _Could be if he’s in love with you_.

It was so strange he had to laugh, the sound bubbling up inside him oddly. He dragged a hand over his forehead and his razed hair, leaning his forehead against the cold cheap wood of the door.

He could accept Barry was in love with him. He’d done the math. It was the easiest explanation. People did crazy things for love. Like trusted their enemies and took care of them and flirted with them, let them get away with being an ass and fucked them anyway.

Barry _shouldn’t_ be able to be in love with him. Should know Len wasn’t good for him, didn’t deserve him. But it was so _Barry_ that he would feel that way. He made the impossible possible, however frustrating it was. Barry in love made sense, because it was Barry.

But that shouldn’t, somehow, illogically, translate to Len actually being able to hurt him. To being able to break his heart.

That wasn’t supposed to happen.

But—hands trembling though he willed them to stop, eyes painfully dry because they hardly ever watered, not anymore—he had no idea what to do about it now.

He was every bit as lost as he’d been at nineteen. Maybe more.

 

[ … ]

 

Barry ran around the city until he was exhausted. It didn’t actually take long, for once, emotions weighing him down. He couldn’t run from his feelings, much as he tried.

But it was well after midnight, aiming toward 1am, by the time he made it through the door at home. For whatever reason, Wally was up late, studying at the coffee table, TV on mute.

Barry wished he’d sped up to his room instead of stopping once he got inside, accidentally catching Wally’s gaze.

“You okay man?”

He really must’ve looked like crap to get that reaction. “Fine. Just tired.” He made a vague motion toward the stairs but Wally eyed him suspiciously.

“Did you sleep with Lenny again?”

Barry choked on air. “Wha—no—what made you think I even—why would you—”

“Dude,” Wally gave him a flat stare, “you guys were _not_ that subtle around each other. Or quiet. My room is _right_ above yours.”

His eyes went wide as saucers. Oh _fuck_. “Does Joe know?”

Wally shrugged. That was helpful. “Hasn’t told me, if he does.”

Barry sank down to sit on the stairs, holding his head in his hands, fingers in his hair. “He’s gonna kill me.”

“Ooooh yeah.”

“Shit.”

But Wally was laughing. “Nah, man. Really, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

His throat was stuck. What would Joe _say_? “He’s gonna think I took advantage.” Under his roof, when he was protecting Lenny and Lisa.

“Is that how _you_ see it?”

He knew Wally was peering at him but didn’t look up. He wished he was having this conversation with Iris, just a little. She always knew what to say.

“No… no we talked about that, I didn’t want—I just see it as _him_. As Leonard. Lenny. We were…”

“Oh yeah, you guys were in love. Pretty sure Joe could see _that_. He’ll understand.”

Barry laughed, harsh and quiet. “Leonard’s not in love with me.”

“Well he was _something_ for you. I’d call it head over heels, but y’know.”

Barry glanced up at him, finally, wishing he could hope. That was Lenny. This was Len. “He’s… He just wants to get it out of his system now.”

Wally winced. “Ouch.”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” he stood up and shuffled his notes into a pile before his grabbing laptop, stretching, “good luck man. But for what it’s worth… dude still looks at you the same way when he’s around.”

Barry wasn’t quite sure what to make of that.

 

[ … ]

 

The next morning Barry felt groggy still, emotionally hung over.

He didn’t have time for that though, so he got out of bed and went to wake Lisa up, rather than stewing.

Except Lisa wasn’t in her bed.

He stopped in the doorway and heard voices downstairs. Ah, Joe was up and Lisa must be with him. He could smell bacon and coffee and let his stomach lead him down to the kitchen, not really paying attention until—

Oh.

Oh she was—her hair was flopping and loose she was in an old shirt of Iris’s with flannel pajama pants, hand around a mug of coffee, laughing with Joe.

She was grown back up, looking warm and beautiful and relaxed and the polar opposite of Barry.

Her eyes lit up when she saw him standing awkwardly in the door of the kitchen. An actual grin split her face, but still looked devious because it was _Lisa_.

“Barry!” she came forward with her hand outstretched. “I don’t think we’ve been _properly_ introduced.”

He laughed a little and shook it. “Hi Lisa. You’re…you. Hi. How’re you feeling?”

“ _Sore_.” She stretched on her way back toward the coffee maker and Joe chuckled. “I had to take some painkillers for the growing pains and the headache. It’s going away fast though. You should’ve seen me an hour ago.”

“You’ve been up for an hour?” he raised his eyebrows at Joe and the man nodded, all smiley and looking pleased as punch.

“I’m a morning person.” The volume of coffee she was drinking suggested otherwise, same with the amount of sugar and cream she was loading into it.

“I missed _my_ morning jog,” Joe commented. “Can’t believe we had so much to talk about.”

“You looked after me for a _month_ —I’d say we have plenty to discuss. Like how you let me watch _Treehouse_ —that channel is abhorrent. And your recipe for meatball stew. Please tell me it’s not a family secret.”

Barry laughed. He almost couldn’t believe it. She was the exact opposite from her brother in her reaction. How she was so relaxed about growing up from _six_ was a complete mystery to him.

“Yeah well, make sure you swing by for dinner sometime then ‘n I’ll teach you how to make it.”

“I will,” she smiled, “and the lab too. I have Cisco and Caitlin to visit, after all.”

“I’m sure they’ll be excited to see you again,” he turned pensive, “though Caitlin might be a little sad to lose her helper.”

“She definitely will be,” Barry chimed in, heading toward the coffee pot now that Lisa was done with it. “But not as disappointed as Cisco’s gonna be that his planned lecture on engineering and proper building of lego towers is gonna go to waste now.”

“He was planning a lecture?” Lisa inquired.

“More of a lego building hands on learning day,” Barry sipped the coffee and smiled. “If you drop by the lab you might end up walking into lego world, consider yourself warned. He was disappointed it was a girls-only outing to the science world lego exhibit.”

She was grinning and Joe excused himself to head to work and beat the morning rush. Barry felt light and a little whimsical still, with the morning so sunny, almost a golden halo around Lisa since she took Joe’s spot near the window.

“I suppose Lenny will be happy,” she said after a quiet minute.

“Yeah,” Barry agreed, feeling a familiar tug in his gut, something bittersweet. “He missed you, I think.”

“I meant he’ll be happy he doesn’t have to put up with more tantrums.”

“Nah, you were a good kid,” he smiled. “Besides, if he’s happy about anything, it’ll be that he doesn’t have to come back here again.”

Her expression turned thoughtful and he looked away. “He didn’t take it so well, did he?”

“Not… like you are. But he has his reasons.”

“I’m sure he did.” She pulled her hair over her shoulder. “But I bet he’s been an ass, hasn’t he?”

He wished he could laugh but sighed instead, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s Leonard.”

“I suppose you’re right.” She paused, then sighed and put down her coffee. “Still though, Barry, if he hasn’t said it yet—thank you. What you did for us—what you did for _him_ —it means the world to me.”

He’d barely met Lisa before this, and only in fairly tense situations when they were pitted half or wholly against each other. She was a lot nicer when he wasn’t worried about her trying to shoot him or his team.

“Thanks for saying that, Lisa.”

She smiled, “any chance of a run to my apartment before you head to work?”

He grinned, more than happy to oblige.

 

[ … ]

 

Len was at his apartment, the main one he lived at, a big open studio place that sat over his workshop. It wasn’t tidy, never was. People thought being meticulous on a job meant he’d hate a mess, but Len was too busy tinkering with things most days to care about a bit of clutter, so long as food and bottles and plates weren’t lying around.

He was reading though, not doing much of anything, when the heavy sliding metal door rolled open.

He was alert immediately, tense but—

“I thought I might find you moping!”

“Lisa!” He was on his feet in a second.

She grinned, perfectly wicked. Perfectly _adult_. “Hi Lenny.”

She was dressed to the nines, definitely had stopped at her own place before coming here, styled herself and even painted her nails. She strolled in and pulled the door closed behind her while he took her in with a sense of relief.

“What took you so long?” he finally teased when she came over.

“Oh you know, a girl’s gotta doll herself up if she wants to make a good impression.”

“On who?” he drawled a little sing-song, suspicious now.

“Well _some_ of us don’t have the resources to make our own guns, and I’m sure Cisco will be obliging if I ask nice enough, don’t you think?”

He opened his mouth and closed it again. Finally, flatly, “you’re visiting STAR Labs.”

“Of course I am. And you should too. They don’t bite, Lenny.”

“Barry does.” It was out of his mouth before he could think better of it.

Lisa looked happily scandalized. “ _Oh_ -ho so the story comes out. I was wondering what on earth has been going on with you two.”

“When did you age back up?”

She cocked her head, “first thing this morning. Why?”

“Haven’t you had better things to do since then than worry about me ‘n Barry?”

“ _Barry_ is a friend of mine now, y’know. And of yours. So is Joe.”

“I’ll pass.”

Her face dropped into a scowl, crossing her arms. “Don’t be an ass, Lenny. They took care of us for a _month_.”

“They saw us _weak_ for a month.”

“We were _de-aged_!” She flicked his arm and he scowled right back at her. “Those men gave me _baths_ , you do not have a monopoly on embarrassment here.”

“So why make it worse?”

“Worse how? By being such an ass you won’t even go over for dinner without me crying at you?”

He frowned, remembering. “They’re better off without making ties to us.”

“That’s not how they see it.”

“They’re bleeding hearts.”

She made a scathing noise, crossing her arms. “Or you’re being a coward.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. If you’re hiding from these nice people because you’re embarrassed, or afraid because they see right through you, or god forbid, you might actually _care_ about them—because of some bullshit basically—then you’re making excuses and I want no part of that.”

He glanced to the side, glaring at nothing. She was easier to deal with at six.

“Lenny…”

“He’s _the Flash_ , Lisa,” he bit back.

“ _So_?” she spread her hands with a question, eyebrows up. “I, for one, plan to go visit Cisco and plant one right on his lips for making my month so lovely.”

“Sis,” his tone carried a warning, demanding for her to drop it.

“Don’t lecture me.”

“It’s not that _easy_.”

“Why not?”

He crossed his arms. “You don’t… have _any_ frustration? Over how… _kind_ they were?” He twisted the word around in his mouth, sounding too bitter. “How it felt to be that way?”

It wasn’t what he meant, really. But he couldn’t get the right words out, to explain the resentment for his own life, what it meant to him to be scared and safe and vulnerable and accepted all at once, how much he wished he could’ve had half of that when he was _really_ nineteen, and how much it set him on edge to think about it now. To think about himself now, in their eyes. He knew who he was but…

He didn’t need to have the right words though, not with Lisa. She just took one look at him, holding his own arms, tight and tense, and she understood. She always understood.

“It doesn’t have to be that way. I know it was tough, I know it’s _hard_ —trust me, I’m right there with you—but it’s up to them to decide if they don’t want us around after all that.”

“He wants _Lenny_ around, not me.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “He said that?”

“He doesn’t have to. He fell for a brat who adored him and needed him. I’m not that pretty little twink who still has hope anymore.”

“Don’t call yourself that.”

He glared at nothing, a spot on the wall.

“You’re still being a coward,” she pointed out quietly, “if that’s what’s holding you back from trying.”

He felt hollow. “Even if I wanted one, he’s not gonna give me any more chances. I already… I used him, Lise. I already broke his heart.”

“Oh, Lenny…” she sighed and pulled him in for a hug, one he accepted gratefully, arms around her, the familiar smell of her hairspray, using the same brand for ten years now. He almost laughed at the little details he could remember again, but just sighed and let himself need a goddamn hug from the only person he let himself accept them from.

“Sometimes,” she said quietly, still holding him tight, “good things happen. And that’s scarier than when bad things do, I know. We’re not good with good things. But I wanna try, Lenny. These people keep giving us chances to try. So I think you should too. Give him another chance to prove you wrong. And maybe he’ll give you another chance too.”

He nodded into her hair and let himself hug her tighter, for a moment longer. He’d missed his sister.

 

[ … ]

 

“Why didn’t you tell me that metahumans hate the Flash?”

Cisco winced. Caitlin shot a pained looked between them.

“Did you know too,” he asked her.

“No Barry, not… I knew Zoom’s army hated you, I thought that was obvious. And that criminals were scared of you. But I didn’t know about the Flash detractors. Cisco just explained it last night.”

Barry sighed, frustrated. “Cisco?”

“I’m sorry dude what was I supposed to say—hey all these metas we’re trying to help are running scared of you? Yo, good job saving people’s lives and the city but by the way, the taskforce picked up this meta last week who swore up and down that the police hates metas and the only reason we can even catch them is because Flash hates ‘his own kind’?”

The last part was in air quotes and Barry winced. Goddammit. “How long?”

Cisco shook his head, obviously as tired of this as Barry already was. “A few months. Maybe longer, if the pipeline Rogues are talking. I didn’t know about that.”

“’kay.”

Cisco hesitated… “we good, man?”

Barry nodded. “Yeah, Cisco. We’re fine. But I need to know stuff like that.”

“You’re not always the most forthcoming either,” Caitlin pointed out, face a mix of sympathy and admonition.

“I tell you what you need to know.”

He only kept secrets that were personal, or _should_ be kept until—

“And Cisco didn’t think you needed to know something that would upset you, not right now anyway.”

He opened his mouth and closed it, shaking his head when he caught her stern expression. Was he being an ass? Probably. He was too rung out to think about how he was coming off. Right. He glanced up at his friend, wincing a little. “Cisco, man…”

“Water under the bridge.”

Barry met his eye and nodded, a silent thanks for dropping it.

“So you talked to Snart after leaving Fountain last night?” Cisco switched gears and Barry couldn’t go there, immediately pushed all thoughts of Leonard out of his head.

“Isabelle.”

“What?”

“She didn’t want to be called Fountain, and Snart told us yesterday that her name’s Isabelle. Speaking of which, did you get any hits on her?”

“We did, in fact.” Caitlin was all clinical focus again in an instant, popping up a profile onto the screen, some newspaper articles and finger prints.

“She was in high school when the particle accelerator hit, here on a school sports trip from Bludhaven. She must have been affected by the blast, but went home and maybe her powers didn’t start to manifest until recently.”

“We figure she came back to town to try and figure out what was going on with her,” Cisco added.

Barry nodded. “And got mixed up with the wrong crowd.”

“Or she was mixed up there and they followed her here?”

It was possible. Bludhaven was near Gotham and neither of them were reputed to be the nicest cities around.

He looked at the image of Isabelle on the screen. She was just 20.

“Any ideas, Barry?” Caitlin asked.

Snart might be right—she might be scared of him, might hate him for locking up metahumans. But he was going to help her anyway. Or, _they_ were.

“One idea, actually.”

 

[ … ]

 

“I really am flattered at the invite, but I do wish I got to use my gun.”

“Yeah we’re trying not to freak her out, remember?”

Lisa glanced at Cisco. Poor guy seemed tense. She dropped into a pout, “what about me? What if _I’m_ worried because of _her_?”

“She won’t de-age you again. I promise.”

She sighed and followed him further up the rickety steps of the apartment complex, a seriously run down place with a faint mold and chemical smell that never meant good things. It would be a good place to pass entirely under the radar, but it made Lisa’s skin itch that she had left her gun behind at STAR Labs (“you’ll get it back after you help us with something, if you’re willing”).

Right, willing to track down the meta who de-aged her (re-track, because apparently Lenny already helped this team with all that once) and talk to her Rogue-to-meta, girl-to-girl, or whatever they thought Lisa would be capable of accomplishing here.

“This way?” she asked, glancing down a hall. Cisco stopped and pulled his weird goggles over his eyes and did that _thing_ he did back at the other place, the condemned apartment complex she was at before, doing something to track this metahuman—Isabelle—down. Apparently knowing her name and going to where she’d been before, touching stuff she owned, was enough for him to find.

But wasn’t _that_ something—Cisco being a metahuman. Lisa had had no idea. He hid it well. So she tried to hide her surprise about it, her confusion at watching him do… whatever it was he did with those goggles on. _Vibing_. Huh.

He pulled off the goggles again—he was wearing his gloves but made _her_ leave her gun at the lab, which hardly seemed fair really—and nodded. “Six Fourteen.”

She nodded and started down the hall, pursing her lips. “This’ll look bad on the Rogues if it backfires, you know. Lenny with the Flash, me with you.”

“It won’t be a problem if she doesn’t _join_ the Rogues.”

He was right, but Lisa frowned anyway. Not that she really cared all that much, but she understood the importance of appearances.

But, well, she wasn’t about to say no to helping the team, let alone say no to Cisco asking if she wanted to team up with him, with doe eyes that even _she_ couldn’t pull off. Poor boy had her wrapped around his finger with that smile and didn’t even know it. Of course she’d said yes to helping him.

She stopped and knocked at the door of unit 614. Almost too long later—she was starting to think she might have to kick the door down—it opened by a crack.

The girl caught sight of Lisa and her eyes went wide. “You! Did—did Captain Cold send you?”

She smiled, trying to look harmless. “No darling, I sent myself _._ ”

The girl’s eyes flicked to Cisco then back to her. “Your brother, he was with the Flash.”

She sighed and resisted the urge to shoot a glare at Cisco. That mess wasn’t _his_ fault. “So I heard. Lenny can be a bit confusing, I know. But he’s not here now, and the Flash isn’t either, so why don’t you let us in?”

“I—”

“We didn’t even bring any guns.” She pointed to her empty holster.

“Who’s your friend?”

“He’s another metahuman. His name is Vibe.” Oh, she liked how that rolled off her tongue. She winked at Cisco.

“No guns on me either,” he chimed in finally. Isballed nodded and closed the door to undo the bolt latch, letting them in.

“You seem pretty resourceful, finding new places for yourself.”

“I have… a bit of money.”

Hadn’t she robbed something? Maybe a bank? Lisa was sure she remembered something like that. It was a shame the girl was so timid, her powers really _were_ interesting, or would be if Lisa wasn’t on the receiving end of them.

“Not bad,” Cisco said, admiring the sparse but functional space.

“I’ve never heard of you, Vibe.”

He smiled and Lisa was glad that Barry maybe did have his head on straight when he’d made this plan. Isabelle knew Lisa and no one knew Vibe, at least not by that name, and Cisco was easily the most approachable of their team.

“I’m alright with that,” he said. “I’m not too _flashy_ with my powers.”

Isabelle actually laughed a little. “Good. So what can you do?”

“Mostly? I vibe things. See them, when I’m not there. It’s how I helped Lisa find you. But that’s not all I can do.”

Isabelle glanced between them, nervous, and Lisa perked up. There was more he could do?

“I thought it was,” he continued. “And I was… terrified. Of what it was, and what it meant. Used to just happen to me. When I was scared, especially. Had a guy scare me half to death to trigger it happening, at first.”

“You couldn’t control it.”

Oh, Barry had definitely picked the right man for the job. Lisa also didn’t mind tagging along to hear all this.

“Yeah no, not at all. But that wasn’t my only problem. Y’know, I thought to myself… _well_ , I’d met some pretty mean metahumans. People who hurt others. People who hurt _me._ So I was scared my powers were gonna make me just like them. ‘N Isabelle, no one in their right head wants to be like them. I hear you don’t want to be like them either.”

She glanced at Lisa, who tried to school her expression into a smile instead of whatever calculating look she knew she was sending Cisco’s way.

“I… I want to be a Rogue, like you.”

“Oh honey,” Lisa shook her head, “you don’t wanna work with killers on the daily.”

Cisco shook his head too. “And I’m not a Rogue.”

“Oh! You’re… not?”

“No. I’m not. I’m a lab geek.”

“Then…” she came a little closer, and Lisa was almost sure they had her, now. “How do you stay safe from the Flash?”

Cisco looked at Lisa and she inclined her head a little.

“I don’t worry about him. At all. Because I know he’s not out to hurt metas. He’s out to save lives—and sometimes that means saving them from other metas, but Isabelle, lemme tell you—some metas out there aren’t like you ‘n me. I’ve seen enough killers. People who were on death row. The Flash locks them up, and maybe he goes too far and maybe the dude’s gotta work on that a little… but he’s not out to get you.”

“You can’t know that.”

“I do.” He stepped toward her but she didn’t back off, didn’t start to glow. Lisa forced herself not to look tense. “Like I know you don’t wanna hurt people, and like I know you _can_ learn to control your powers, and when you do—girl there is so much good in the world you can do with a skillset like that. I can’t wait to hear about all the cool things you’re gonna figure out how to do. I’m sure you can learn to age people back up. And maybe even age them older, who knows! Take them back to a specific year or memory—the sky’s the limit.”

She looked at her hands, and _now_ there was a faint blue glow. Lisa stiffened, but Isabelle said, “my powers are a curse. People want to use them. Use me.”

“I get it. I know what that curse feels like. But what you do with your powers is up to you. N’ if you want, if you’re ready, I’m gonna help protect you from anyone else who tries to use you. Me _and_ Lisa.”

She shot him a smirk, “thanks, darling.”

Isabelle was smiling again though, a little. “You… you really think I can do all that?”

“And more!” he seemed so enthusiastic for her.

“And you’ll help protect me?”

“Scout’s honor.”

“But… _Why_?”

“Because… that’s what we do. Me and my friends.”

“Your friends.”

He looked at Lisa again and she nodded, again. They had Isabelle. She just needed to trust him, and Cisco earned trust in spades, just from his smile.

“I don’t work alone, Isabelle. I’m… I’m the one you gave you that name you don’t like. Lady Fountain of Youth.”

She sucked in a breath, stepping back from him. “You’re _him_. You’re Cisco Ramon!”

“You’ve heard of me!” he was grinning and really shouldn’t be, with a reaction like that.

“You’re the one who made those cells. The one who can make _anything_. Mark Mardon told me about you, he said--…”

Lisa was _very_ curious was Mark had said, and apparently so was Cisco, who somehow wasn’t looking too dismayed. Maybe he was a better actor than she knew, or maybe he was ready for this. He did look tight around the eyes.

“Weather Wizard mentioned me?”

She scratched her arm, looking between them. “He said you put a bottle of whiskey on his brother’s grave for him. That you kept them company, watched movies with them. He didn’t say you were a meta.”

Oh that was interesting. Lisa knew Cisco was a good man, but that was more than even she knew.  

“Mark was right, Isabelle,” Lisa stepped forward, taking over from Cisco. “Cisco _can_ make anything. Like my gun. Like a prison cell. But also like the tool that saved my life when I had a bomb in my neck. And like the goggles on his neck that helped me find you, so that I could help _him_ and his friends protect you.”

“Why’re you _helping_ them? Why are you and your brother—”

“Because they protected us. All month. The people who looked after me—at _six_ , thanks to you—were Cisco and his friends. The Flash. Y’know, the Flash made blanket forts with me and,” Lisa laughed, “I don’t think I’m living it down anytime soon. But I promise you—these people, Cisco and his friends… they’re on your side. They’re good people. Even to girls like me.”

She looked lost, confused, and Lisa felt for her, she really did. But it was time to close the deal.

“Go with him. I know you must be tired of running. Come with _both_ of us and meet his friend at their lab. The Flash won’t be around. And then we can see about getting you everything else you need, and _I’ll_ be more than happy to take out any thugs on your tail.”

“You’ll come with me—to their lab?”

“Yes of course.” She _had_ just said that and—oh. Oh. Isabelle was hugging her. Oh this was new.

She looked at Cisco over Isabelle’s head, unsure exactly what to do, patting her awkwardly on the back. Cisco was just grinning wide at her, giving her a thumbs up.

It was sort of nice, really. Not that she wanted to get _used_ to it, but the hero thing had its appeal.

Finally, Isabelle backed off. “Okay. I don’t want to keep running and I _don’t_ trust the Flash but..,” she glanced at Cisco. “Let’s go.”

“Shall we then, Vibe?” Lisa smiled a little, still devious as ever. She was going to like using that name.

“Right behind you, Glider.”

 

[ … ]

 

“How were the heroics?” Len asked when Lisa showed up at his warehouse that evening, looking pleased with herself.

Her gun was back on her hip, and though her lipstick wasn’t smudged in the slightest, he’d wager a sizeable sum that Cisco Ramon had received a goodnight kiss.

“It actually felt pretty darn good, brother. Not the same as stealing, mind you, but it’s okay to mix things up once in a while. You should try it.”

He glanced back at the magazine he was now pretending to read. “It’s not for me.”

She dropped a black bag onto the couch where he was lounging. There was a dull thud to it and he arched an eyebrow at her.

“Barry wanted you to have this.” Her own eyebrows were up, a challenge in her expression. He narrowed his eyes and set the magazine aside to sit up and open the bag.

He tensed, caught between shock and relief and something else. His cold gun.

“He knows I can make more,” he pushed out eventually, glancing back up at his sister.

She looked disapproving. “He also said he wants to talk to you about something, and to give him a call.”

He scowled, heart thumping already too heavily in his chest.

“I’ll give him a shout.”

“Good.” Lisa turned, as if to leave, but glanced back at him for a moment. “And Lenny…  you don’t have to date him. But don’t be an ass.”

 

[ … ]

 

When he’d told Lisa to tell Len to call him, he hadn’t really meant so _soon_.

When he caught sight of the number on his phone, familiar and it only took him a moment to realize why, he’d fumbled with it and almost tripped. Then he remembered that he was pissed, and tired, and not about to put up with any shit from Snart. So he took a second to calm down before he finally answered.

“Hello.”

“Barry.”

“Leonard, hi.”

“Thanks for the gun.”

Right. Not like there had been any point keeping it from him, and Barry sort of hated having it at the lab. He could’ve destroyed it but Snart knew how to make them, and keeping it after Leonard had agreed to help—after Lisa had agreed to help—with Isabelle hadn’t seemed right.

“I want to talk to you about Flash detractors. Can we meet somewhere?”

“… Black Dog Whiskey House.”

Barry was a little relieved that Saints and Sinners wasn’t his _only_ haunt. The Black Dog was a lot less dank.

“See you when I’m off.”

“Mm.”

The line clicked, and Barry finally relaxed, forehead tipping forward to stare down at his phone in his hand.

He could do this. Keep it professional. Quick conversation and then he’d leave. This wasn’t about him, it was about metahumans. And once Len helped him… they could be square, and Len wouldn’t feel tied to him anymore.

 

[ … ]

 

Barry slid into the seat opposite Len, glancing around with a bit of a laugh. “And here I thought you only went to the Top 10 grimiest pubs in the city. This is only Top 20.”

Len shot him a look. He was halfway amused though, relaxing slightly at Barry’s easygoing jibe. He’d expected more… tension. “This place makes good onion rings.”

Barry let out a chuckle and leaned back in his seat, telling the server that came over that he’d like some onion rings, ‘since they were so highly recommended’, and a beer. He grinned at Len, a little sharp. He suspected he might be the one stuck with the bill this time.

“My sister enjoyed her little outing with Cisco,” he offered by way of opening after Barry’s beer arrived.

“So I heard.”

“Fountain all done with?”

“More or less. We’ll deal with anyone after her for her powers, and she won’t be bothering the Rogues again. She’s spending the night at Caitlin’s.”

“Didn’t she de-age Snow?” He distinctly remembered her telling him that.

“Ha, yeah. Caitlin’s being pretty good about it all. We’re gonna try to get Isabelle to feel safe enough to come talk to the CCPD within the week.”

“A happy ending for you, then,” Len lifted his beer to Barry before sipping it. Barry took a sip of his own, smiling a little, but it was half a grimace.

“I need to make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

“This?”

Barry glanced at him and the onion rings arrived. Len noticed he didn’t touch them. “I need to make sure no one else who needs my help is too afraid of me to come forward.”

“Good luck.”

“What if it’s a kid next time, Leonard? You don’t think it’s suspicious that almost all the metas we’ve met so far are adults?”

He drummed his fingers against the table. “Never thought about it.”

“Caitlin expects that up to _half_ of metahumans in the city are probably minors. I didn’t even know that until this week.”

Len’s eyes narrowed, considering it. “Their parents are hiding them.”

“They must be. Or their powers haven’t manifested yet. But they will. And when they do…”

He looked distressed and Len followed his line of thought.

“D’you want a hundred new enemies, or new friends?”

“More like do I want a hundred minors twisted into criminality just because they’re too afraid to get help.”

Ah. Naturally. Worried about them and not himself. Len exhaled, fighting the frown off his face. He was starting to itch for… something.

“Still waiting to hear what this has to do with me.”

Barry hesitated, then leaned forward, voice quieter but more intense. “You’re the leader of the Rogues. They’re going to come to you, like Isabelle did. They’re going to ask you for help.”

He tilted his head. “And when that happens, you want me to what—send them to you? Where they don’t want to be, Barry?”

“ _Someone_ has to let them know they’re safe at STAR labs, so long as they don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“Now why would I do that? Give you allies I could be making?” his own smirk might be a little cruel.

Barry frowned. “Because you owe me, remember.”

He tensed, suddenly more alert. Barry kept talking.

“Because you asked me what you could do to even our score and this is it. Help me keep vulnerable metahumans safe, so nothing like this ever happens again.”

Len pursed his lips, glancing away. He stole an onion ring while he thought.

“It’s a compelling idea,” he drawled. “Heartwarming even—”

“Stop being a dick.”

His eyebrows raised, then he snapped his mouth closed. His heart beat a little heavier in his chest and he shoved aside the feeling, what it felt like to be read so easily.

“Your plan won’t work,” he dropped the teasing note from his voice, being straightforward. He even leaned forward and looked Barry in the eye. “Not like that.”

“Oh?”

“That’ll give me a reputation for sending metas to the Flash, the _opposite_ of what you want. That’s _if_ the Rogues don’t turn on me for it to start with. You need a solution that’s going to change the minds of the detractors _before_ they ever get to me.”

Barry nodded, then jutted his chin at him. “Okay. Like what?”

He hated how nervous Barry made him feel. Had made him feel since the first time he walked into Saints and Sinners and asked for help, really. Unpredictable and earnest. An honest man, asking _Len_ for his advice.

He tilted his head again, this time with a sigh. “You need… to accept it’ll be a slow process. Maybe ugly. Stop using that pipeline for good. Speak out against the meta protestors even when it pisses off your fans. Get the stories outta metahumans before you call in the cavalry and distance yourself from the cops. You have to be _better_ than they are, Barry. Most of them, anyway. And if— _if_ I come across a little meta kid, or a case like Isabelle’s… I suppose I can give you a call.”

Barry sat back and dragged a hand through his hair, messing it up. Len’s eyes tracked the movement, recognizing it, all of his tells, as if he hadn’t been obvious before Len spent a month watching him constantly.

“Problem with that?”

“No—no I just… I can do _most_ of that. But will it be enough?”

Len glanced down. Then up, meeting Barry’s gaze. “You’re a hero, Barry. Anyone who meets you sees it. Put yourself in their shoes _—all_ of their shoes—and you’ll sort it out.”

“Nothing in my life’s ever that easy.”

He chuckled, sipping his beer, rolling his shoulders a little. “No. But if it makes you feel any better… I can make sure the Rogues work on our public image. People shouldn’t be coming to us for help. I think it’s high time we stepped up our game and reminded the good people of Central City how much we _deserve_ to land where we get ourselves.”

Barry’s incredulous expression made Len almost want to grin. He stole another onion ring while Barry’s jaw worked, finally laughing. “I can’t believe I walked into that one.”

“You did ask for my help.”

“Right. Not sure what else I could’ve expected.” He snagged an onion ring of his own finally, looking surprised after he took a bite. “These _are_ pretty good.”

Len remembered what his sister had said. About giving Barry another chance to give _him_ a chance. He swallowed. Barry stood up.

“I guess I should go.” He took a last swig of his beer, dropping it on the table. “Places to be, running to do. Thanks for the beer.”

He seemed pretty damn pleased with himself, walking out first, and Len didn’t have it in him to call him back, throat tight watching him walk away again.

 

[ … ]

 

“I’m going for dinner at the West house on Saturday.”

“Hello to you too, Sis.”

“You could’ve at least watered my houseplants in the week you were aged up.”

“They were dead anyway.”

“Not all of them.”

He shot her a look, standing in the doorway. He was in his kitchen making cheap ramen noodles and dutifully _not_ thinking about Joe West’s cooking. It wasn’t the same cooking a big meal for just yourself.

“You come here to talk about your plants?”

“I _came_ to invite you to dinner.”

“Phone call would’a been fine.”

“Maybe I miss spending time with you.”

He glanced at her. She was looking away, arms crossed. He narrowed his eyes. “We just spent a _month_ together.”

She opened her mouth then shook her head. He sighed and flicked off the burner, turned toward her properly and leaned back against the counter.

“Alright, I’ll bite. What is it?”

“Exactly that. We just spent a month together. I saw you every day, all day. And I might not be _six_ anymore, and might not need blanket forts and mermaids…” she glanced at him and smiled at whatever half-dopey expression must be on his face at the memory. “But I haven’t seen you for more than an hour at a time since I got back, and… well I guess I got used to it.”

He nodded. He knew the feeling, if he was being honest. Not exactly the same, but that his apartment was too quiet. Spent a lot of time over the past few days out and about, at bars or with Mick. The quiet was nice, at first. But it had a sort of hollow feeling after the bustle of the West house, with people in and out and up and down at all times. With Lisa tugging at his arm all day.

“Stick around. We can watch something dumb on TV.”

She perked up, then smiled her own little smile that told him she was feeling more even again. “You’re going to make me watch a terrible action movie, aren’t you?”

“Something straight to video, definitely.”

She laughed and called him awful, and at the end of the evening, he almost didn’t want her to go, considered telling her to take the guest room and crash. He didn’t though, just walked her to the door.

“Caitlin and I are going shopping on Saturday. I think Iris might join us if she’s not working on a story.”

He wasn’t quite sure why she was telling him this.

“Iris is going to come to dinner regardless, though. And maybe Cisco.”

It clicked, and he nodded, tight. “I’ll… think about it.”

Her sad smile made the itch under his skin return.

 

[ … ]

 

He stared at the ceiling all night on Friday night, thinking. Thinking of his little cot, and smoking out Barry’s window, and the way Barry looked in the streetlight filtering in.

He wondered if Barry knew he’d invited a killer into his house, into his room, even then. If he knew about all the pockets Lenny had picked and all the things he’d nicked from the nearby store, too good to get noticed. Probably not. Barry wasn’t the type to let it slide. Len wondered if he’d ever tell Barry that he’d met up with Mick, despite it all.

He’d wanted to tell Barry everything about himself, back then, but hadn’t known where to start.

He’d promised to be a friend. He’d meant it. He couldn’t _imagine_ a world where it wouldn’t be true. Not unless Barry didn’t want it to be. But no, it wasn’t Barry that was the problem when he grew back up.

It was hard to imagine a future—any future—at nineteen. He certainly didn’t imagine this one. And he’d seen himself, old and bitter and hard in his mugshot. He knew what he was. He just didn’t realize how it would _feel_.

That he’d still feel nervous, but over entirely different things. That an honest man scared him more than a liar. That caring about people had become more difficult than killing people.

Or how terrifying it would be to want to try feeling something else. To try being… not someone different. But someone who was capable of the vulnerability he’d had at nineteen, maybe. Capable of the authenticity.

Capable of the love.

He bit his lip against the rush of emotion, hating it. Needing it. This was what he was signing up for, after all—feelings. Letting himself feel them.

He was going to hate himself if this blew up in his face. But if he had to try, he first had to understand.

 

[ … ]

 

Dinner on Saturday was at seven thirty. Len knocked on the door at five.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but Wally’s quizzical face when he opened the door was probably what he _should_ have expected.

“Oh uh, hey man. C’mon in.”

Len was a little amused that he so clearly didn’t know what to do with an early and awkward houseguest. He handed him the bag with beer and whiskey that he’d brought and asked,

“Barry around?”

“Yeah,” the relief on Wally’s face was even more entertaining. “Upstairs, in his room.”

“Thanks.”

“And Leonard?”

He stopped and turned, some tense note in Wally’s voice catching him.

“ _Please_ don’t stomp on his heart again.”

He wasn’t expecting that. After a moment, he nodded once. “Not in the plan.”

“Awesome.” And like that, Wally was relieved all over again. Then he scrunched up his face. “But if you’re here for a booty call please keep it down. I’m tryin’a get homework done.”

He was sure his jaw was hanging, a little. Apparently, Wally had a lot more surprises than he let on. From his little grin, he knew it too.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Len moved to the stairs. “And Wally?”

“Mhm?” Oh he definitely looked pleased with himself.

Len smiled like a shark. “You owe me a rematch at Call of Duty.”

It felt satisfying that he got to leave the conversation with Wally’s jaw hanging instead of his own.

The hall felt so familiar. The door just a little ways down, leading to Lisa’s room (Iris’s old room). Familiar, and warm. A place for family.

He pushed the thought aside and knocked on Barry’s door.

“Come in,” he called, voice distracted. Len steeled himself and entered.

Barry was sitting on the bed, one earbud in, laptop sitting on his lap. It was oddly endearing, having seen him sit that way in that exact spot so many times—having sat there himself with that exact laptop, and the memories of Barry’s trainwreck of an introduction to internet porn was _not_ something he needed to remember right now.

“Len.”

Barry looked like a deer in the headlights, beautifully perplexed. And then his kinetic energy kicked in and he was standing, tripping, hopping to disentangle himself from the charger and headphones, gave up and used his speed—Len was holding back his chuckle—and with a little flash of lightning, was standing in the middle of the room.

“Sorry—thought you were Wally.” He scratched the back of his head, looking at Len through those long lashes. “I didn’t know if you were coming for dinner. You’re early.”

He nodded. How did one go about this? He came in with a plan for what to say (and seven back up plans, depending on how the conversation went) but this wasn’t the opening he’d expected.

“I am… here. Whether I stay will depend.”

Barry looked suspicious now. “On?”

Len was staring at the window and stole a glance at Barry. “It occurs to me I’ve been,” he pursed his lips, “an ass.”

Barry laughed. “Like that’s news.”

Len conceded the point with a little amusement. “Fair.”

“You didn’t come here two hours early to tell me you’re a dick. Or did you?”

Why was this so damn difficult?

“What if I’m here to… apologize?”

“I’d… listen.”

“You’ve confused me a lot recently, Barry.” He stared at Barry’s face, his expression, his eyes. “You’re a puzzle. I’m still waiting for an explanation as to why you’re hung up on me.”

Barry’s face closed down. He took a step back and shook his head. “I’m not doing this again.”

His heart constricted. He stepped forward. “And _I’m_ not doing this to hurt you. I need to understand—”

“ _Understand_? I told you I _loved_ you, Len, and you didn’t have the decency to do anything but ask me how it _happened_.”

He swallowed back the urge to snap back, to tell Barry to forget about it and walk away. It was tempting, so tempting, to snarl. Instead, he took a deep breath in through his nose and reminded himself that this was Barry. No matter how exposed he was going to feel, Barry was the last person who would use it against him.

“Tell me what you want, Leonard. Or go.”

“I want to understand,” he whispered, fists clenching at his sides, “how it happened. How I’m… enough.”

He heard Barry exhale, still staring at the wall. But he wasn’t a coward so he _had_ to look at Barry, to flick his gaze over to read his winded expression.

“You really... have no idea how special you are, do you?”

Len shook his head. “I’m a good _thief_ , a criminal, not some special—”

“You know how many criminals I see in a month? A week? You _are_ different, Len. You proved that the first time we met.”

“When I derailed a train?”

“When you figured out my weakness after seeing me for thirty seconds, yeah.”

“I used it against you.”

“You did. But you saw right through me. I know I wear my heart on my sleeve but you _always_ see right through me, Len.”

“You don’t _love_ me because I know how to see people’s weaknesses, Barry.”

“I love you because underneath all your spite and snark you’re _good_ —you’d do _anything_ for the people you love and you were dealt a bad hand by life but you made something with it anyway. You have a code and you’re a leader and you _help_ me, Len, every time I’ve needed you to.”

He shook his head, feeling tight and bitter. “You’re wrong. I’m not ‘good’ anymore, Barry. I haven’t been since I was your age. Since I was _Lenny_.”

Barry took a step back, confused and looking almost angry. “Is this about—is this about _him_?”

“He’s the one you fell for.”

“Oh my _god_ you are _pathological_ , Leonard. You were jealous of yourself at nineteen and you’re jealous of yourself now too?”

He glared, “I’m not—”

“Then _what_?” Barry snapped.

“You had a rosy-eyed view of me then and you still do now and that’s the only reason—”

“Oh do I? Have some false impressions? You think you know better than I do how I see you?”

“Don’t—”

“No we’re doing this. You brought this up,” he held his arms out as if to indicate his own innocence. “I’m just answering your questions, Len. And I _don’t_ have some rosy view. If I did, that would mean that I’d forgotten—about the people on that train you just mentioned. _Children_ , Leonard. Or about that theater usher you iced over. I cried, you know that? I wasn’t fast enough to save him and I hated watching him die. And it would mean I forgot about the bomb you let Rory put under a chair with Caitlin on it—and mind you, I _killed_ the next man who put a bomb under the chair of someone I cared about, a meta named Sand Demon, because I _don’t_ try to reason with people who want to kill me most of the time.”

Len’s eyes widened but Barry wasn’t done. “And it would mean I forgot about Cisco crying when he told me you knew my name. That I forgot about Simmons, and what you said to me after you betrayed me.”

He stepped right up to Len, voice quiet and bitter. “I _haven’t_ forgotten.”

Len swallowed hard. He searched Barry’s eyes. All that history, all things he didn’t know at nineteen, not really. All things he could see from his own memories, endeared toward Barry in the woods, his cheeky bold attitude. Floored that he’d coming looking to Len for help in a dingy bar, desperate. Already attracted to the intensity in him by then, the lightning in his eyes.

There were a thousand reasons in all their interactions to want Barry. To _fall_ for him. But he still couldn’t see…“If all that’s true, it makes even less sense. _Why_ do you love me?”

And Barry stepped back and dragged a hand through his hair. He looked exhausted, and upset, and Len almost hated himself for putting that expression on his face.

“Why does anyone love anyone else, Leonard. You’re… different. Special.”

“I’m not.”

“You are to me,” his voice was sharp and his eyes were hard. “You don’t get to decide you’re not special to me.”

Len’s hands shook at his side. He wanted to slide them along his sweater, wrap his arms around himself for comfort. Tells he’d forced himself not to show in his twenties, not when his guard was up.

He felt so _raw_.

Barry was shaking his head. “I’m not doing this. I’m not stabbing myself through the heart over this again, Leonard. You don’t want me so stop doing this.”

Len’s voice was so soft it surprised himself, “men like you aren’t supposed to fall for ones like me, Barry.”

“What’s that even supposed to mean?”

“That you’re _good_ Barry, and I’m—”

“You are.”

His throat clicked. “Not enough.”

Barry shook his head, bitter. “I think I’ll take the cold shoulder again, if you’re giving it out. It beats you telling me I’m not allowed to love you when I already do.”

Fuck. He needed to fix this. “No, Barry, I—” he took a half step forward, then stilled, calming himself down, more even when he said, “I came here to say I’ll _take_ it, if you’re truly convinced you want it.”

“Take what?”

He looked him in the eye. “You.”

Barry opened and closed his mouth.

Len stepped forward again, more measured this time, words practiced. “Lisa may have pointed out that I wasn’t rebuffing you out of a lack of interest but a… failure of courage. I’m amending that.”

“Are you—what the hell, Leonard? Are you saying you wanna be with, and if so, _why_ —because your sister thinks you’re an ass for rejecting me?”

He caught Barry by the face with both hands, intense, a tremor of nerves, jaw painfully tense. Barry stilled.

“I’m _saying_ , Barry, that I’m into you. That I don’t deserve you and you _shouldn’t_ want me, but so long as you do, so long as you want me and not some idea of me you’ve built up in your head… so long as I can have you, I’m not gonna throw away my shot just because…”

Barry’s voice was soft between them. “Because?”

“Because I…” feel weak. Vulnerable. “…’ve never been any good and knowing _how_ to hold on to a good thing.”

“You’re such a cliché, Leonard. Were you pushing me away just because…”

“I don’t do feelings. Or.” He tilted his head with a small, considering frown. “Didn’t. Pushing you away was self-preservation, Barry.”

“And now?”

He glanced to the side. “Now I spent a year wanting parts of you and a month finding out I want the rest and you said I could have you. So I’m taking it, if it’s still on the table.”

Barry let out a little laugh, smiling, looking a little watery. Len wasn’t gonna be able to handle it if he started to cry. He just… wasn’t. But Barry leaned into Len’s hand on his cheek, tilting to kiss the palm.

“You want me?”

“Yes.”

“For something real? More than sex?”

He swallowed. “Yes.”

“You care about me?”

Well, no one said it would be _easy_ to admit it. He nodded slowly. “Yes. I do.”

“You’ll _be_ with me?”

“ _Yes_ , Barry.”

“Okay. I’m yours.”

Len’s eyes narrowed, suspicious. “Just like that?”

It couldn’t be that—

“Just don’t call me easy.”

He smirked, heartrate still going a mile a minute but this was a script he knew. “You liked it.”

Barry laughed. “Maybe a little.”

Len leaned in and kissed him, _finally_. And he relaxed once Barry kissed him back, angled his head to pull Len deeper, getting their bodies flush together. Len didn’t mind, reveling in the feeling of Barry’s hair under his fingers, the soft skin on the side of his neck, while Barry’s arms were tight around his middle, fingers clutched into the fabric of his sweater.

He could kiss Barry for days. The sounds he made when Len sucked his lower lip, the way he almost forgot to breathe when Barry’s tongue slid against his own. When sex felt like business (as it so often did, for him), you didn’t get to enjoy just kissing someone, and he took full advantage.

He was getting into it, already thinking about walking Barry back toward the mattress, tipping them into it, taking him again, hearing all those noises Len knew he would make—but.

There was the sound of a throat clearing at the bedroom door.

Barry and Len were off each other in a second.

Joe was standing there, a little wide-eyed. He looked caught between fury and perfect calm and Len would _swear_ he was amused underneath the not-quite-calm-murder expression. “I see you two sorted it out. I _don’t_ wanna know. Don’t.” He pointed at Barry and Len knew he wasn’t the only one used to his interruptions. “Just thought I’d tell you the girls are almost here and if you’re not coming down then close the damn door at least.”

Barry laughed, flushing a little, not looking even in the general direction of Len. “Thanks Joe.”

“Uh huh. You ‘n I’ll be having a conversation later. You too,” he pointed at Len, shot them both one last disapproving glance, then headed toward the stairs.

“Well. That went better than expected.” Barry was leaning against the back of the suddenly (swiftly) closed door, cheeks still flushed.

“You really need to move out, Barry.”

He laughed again, dropping his head back against the wood with a groan. “I know.”

They were quiet for a moment. Len started to tense again, nervous, hands tapping against his leg. He could fidget again, now that the hard parts were all out of the way, that he was letting his guard down again.

“What is it?” Barry was staring at him.

He wasn’t surprised Barry could tell he was nervous. “I need you to know, before I screw it up… I’m _going_ to screw this up.”

Barry smiled, but Len continued.

“I don’t _do_ touchy-feely, Barry. I don’t talk about feelings. I know you will, ‘n I’ll…try… to reciprocate. But there’s things I can’t do and say, and I won’t apologize for that.”

Barry nodded, serious again, pushing himself off the door, somehow replete with smooth grace, for all he was awkward and tripping earlier. Len would never understand how he could be both.

“Anything else?”

“I won’t stop stealing for you. _But_ —” he took a page from West’s book and raised a finger to quell Barry’s attempt at an interruption, “I’ll stick to our deal, no one gets hurt. I’ll up my game and I’ll make sure not even The Flash can track me before I’m off with the goods.”

Barry scoffed. “Oh you’re on.”

Len smirked, pleased with that reaction. “Lisa comes first. Always has, always will.”

Barry nodded, “of course.”

“You don’t press for details—about my past, my life, my work. I’ll talk but let me decide what and when. And _don’t_ try to ‘fix’ me.” He couldn’t stand being Barry’s pet project. But the other man just winced.

“Never, Leonard.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. My turn?”

Len arched an eyebrow. Barry came closer, looking more relaxed than Len felt.

“I _do_ need to talk about feelings. I have them and I don’t hide them. And when I talk about them, I need you to listen, and I’ll need some affirmation. You don’t have to open up, but I _need_ to know you care.”

He nodded. “Lemme know what that affirmation needs to look like and that’s…doable.”

“Right. Also. Being the Flash keeps me busy. Really busy. _Saving lives_ comes first for me, it has to.”

Len nodded again, “easy.”

Barry looked so _earnest._ “Whatever happens with the Flash and Captain Cold, we talk about it after before jumping to conclusions. I don’t want you to hate me because I drop a friend of yours in jail.”

“… that’s fair.”

“Good. I’m… trusting you. Not to hate me for having to do what I do, if you plan to keep robbing banks.” He tilted his head at Len, just a little, a bit like a bobble-head really. “And I’ll call you on it when you’re being an ass, and expect you to do the same for me. You’re not the only one who needs space sometimes, or gets up in his head.”

Len nodded again, liking all of this, almost smiling. Barry relaxed by a fraction, with a more cheeky smile to finish it off. “And you get _one_ , maybe two, panic moments where you freak out and decide to sabotage this then regret it. My ego can only take chasing after you so many times.”

He actually laughed. “How generous of you.”

“Figured I’d mention it up front, if you’re this hard to wrangle into admitting you like me.”

“I do. Like you.” He figured he could concede that point, and also another. “You _may_ … call me Lenny. But you’re one of three people alive who gets to, so don’t wear it out.”

Barry grinned ear to ear at that.

They did make it downstairs for dinner, but not until after Len was satisfied at how thoroughly he’d kissed Barry, leaving him flushed and smiling and positively glowing, looking like everything Len felt inside. Things he wasn’t ready to put to words, but would know were true and good at any age.

 

[ … ]

 

Barry knew Len was nervous.

He could feel it under his fingers when they slid up Len’s shirt, in the way he sucked in a breath.

Barry was nervous too. Somehow Len kept forgetting that, with his knee-jerk reaction was to be angry anytime he was vulnerable. But he wasn’t angry now, just tense.

Barry frowned. He needed to fix that.

It had been two days since the dinner at Joe’s. The dinner at which he’d been teased mercilessly by pretty much everyone over how obvious it was that he and Len had just been making out upstairs like teenagers. He really did need to move out. At least Lisa’s teasing was mostly directed at Len, who seemed to take it all in stride. Caitlin didn’t tease either, just looked disapproving at everyone, including Cisco and Lisa. Barry definitely hadn’t missed the hickey on Cisco’s neck, and neither had Len, from the death-glare he shot Cisco.

But that was two days ago, and this was now, and Barry _really_ wanted the sex he was about to get, tumbling into Len’s bedroom, into his _bed_ , after their first chance to see each other since then.

But Len was nervous, and that wouldn’t do.

“You can leave it on, if you want,” Barry offered, hands still on Len’s sides and he leaned forward to kiss him again. Barry’s own shirt was already off, discarded in the hall and he really did need to actually look around this place later when they were done. That wasn’t important now. Now he was more than happy where he was, on his back in Len’s bed, Len overtop of him.

“It’s…”

Barry nuzzled his neck and kissed it gently. “I want you to feel good. Can’t feel good if you’re stressing about this.”

Len exhaled shakily near his ear. “I have… more scars than I did before.”

At 19. Barry nodded and kissed his jaw. “Scars don’t bother me.”

“I’m not as… young.”

He laughed. God, Leonard was ridiculous with words. “I _know_ , Len. It’s fine. I swear.”

Len leaned back on his knees and, with a tense stare, pulled his t-shirt over his head.

He was so gorgeous Barry’s mouth started to water. There were little hairs in the center of his chest, not much but enough. Some old tattoos that Barry would have questions about later, and he wasn’t as lean, _wasn’t_ as young. But he definitely was every bit as beautiful.

But he could understand why Len wouldn’t think that about himself. The crisscrosses of cuts and burns and what could only be bullet holes. They made Barry ache a little, the ones he recognized as familiar, the ones he didn’t. He wondered how many he’d have, if he could have any at all.

He sat up, trailing his hands up Len’s side, glancing up at him. “May I?”

He received a terse nod in reply and Barry knew Len was still waiting to be rejected. Barry kissed his chest with a smile. Then again. Slow, peppering his chest all over, on and off scars, not paying them any special attention.

“You know…” he mouthed over Len’s nipple and looked up at him when that got a pleased noise. “The whole ‘grumpy when nervous’ thing is gonna get confusing.” He trailed his mouth over to the other nipple, giving it the same attention. “How’m I gonna know if you’re really mad or just feeling vulnerable?”

Len let out a quiet, constricted chuckle. “That’s kinda the point.”

“Mm. Should fix that.” He sucked harder until Len gasped.

“Now really the time to talk about my emotional issues, Barry?”

He hummed and let go of the nipple, leaning back. “You’re right. But just so you know… I’m nervous too.”

Len met his eyes, then relaxed (finally) into a warmer expression, the cold thawing a little. He trailed his knuckles gently down Barry’s cheek, probably the softest caress he could imagine from Len.

“I’ll take good care of you, Barry.”

Well if _that_ wasn’t going straight to his cock. He swallowed, but took Len’s hand in his and pulled it down to his own chest, over his rapidfire heart.

“I love you, you know that. I want to make this good for you too, good as it can be.”

“I—” Len bit his lip. Barry tracked the movement with his eyes, how he smoothed it over with his tongue after. “I’m not going anywhere, Barry.”

Len really did see right through him. “Good.”

Len leaned down and kissed him, hard and deep, hand still on his chest. Barry fell back against the mattress again and brought Len with him in a tangle of limbs. They kissed until he was breathless, getting lost in sensation, and then Len’s lips and hands were teasing him everywhere, testing for what got the best reaction, experimenting in a way that was going to drive him insane before long. Barry’s pants were gone in no time, tugging at Len’s own.

Len got him to spread his legs and he fought down the urge to flush. He gasped when a slick finger against his entrance, circling around over and over until Barry called him a bastard and rocked himself against it, impatient. He _finally_ pushed it past the tight ring of muscle, but not until after he’d kissed Barry mostly senseless again. His kisses were addictive.

“The _sounds_ you make…” Len’s voice was halfway to growl and Barry wanted to moan all over again, getting stretched by Len’s fingers.

“You feel good,” he said like it explained everything. It did. And here in Len’s apartment, they had no reason to stay quiet.

“The things I wanna do to you…”

Barry groaned in agreement, then gasped and arched. Len worked him up to three fingers now and slid them all against his prostate. “ _Len!_ ”

“You wanna cum, Barry? Or wait till I’m inside you?”

What a cruel choice. He glanced down and could see Len stroking himself with his free hand. Barry’s own dick didn’t need it—one touch and he was probably a goner.

“Inside me.”

Len grinned and reached for a condom and Barry wrapped his legs up high around Len’s waist. Len’s hands were on his ass cheeks, kneading and spreading, sliding his cock against but not in Barry’s entrance and he was ready to kill the man already but right when he was about to tell Len to just _do it_ , the man chuckled and nudged his cock up against his rim.

Barry moaned when the jerk _finally_ pressed inside, but only the head and Barry was going to murder him.

He dug his fingers into Len’s back and rocked his hips, then whined when Len held his hips still.

“C’mon c’mon _c’mon_ —are you trying to kill me?”

Len leaned forward—another inch sliding in _, fuck_ —just so he could nip at Barry’s neck and chuckle. “I want to drag this out. Make it count. More than the other times.”

Oh now— _now_ he got romantic? When he was literally inside Barry? He groaned and dropped his head back. “I hate you so much.”

“Thought you loved me?” Len’s voice was teasing and Barry laughed brokenly, gasping instead when Len rocked his hips forward.

“I do. You’re such a bastard. Just fuck me already—we can savor it later.”

Len gave in with a groan, sharp and sudden, spearing Barry open as he pressed in almost to the hilt. Barry moaned, legs tightening around Len, feeling stretched wide and full.

“God you’re tight.”

“ _Nnn_ —God _you’re_ a tease.”

Len hummed and kissed him and started to roll his hips and Barry stopped complaining and started panting. Len moved his hands up Barry’s sides and slid one even higher, up his chest, ghosting soft over his neck—Barry gasped at the sensation of Len’s fingers against his sensitive skin—and into his hair, carding through it. Barry arched up, wanting more, feeling the stretch of Len inside him.

“ _Lenny_ —” he gasped at a deep thrust.

“So good for me, Barry. So beautiful.”

He was pretty sure he was never letting Len out of bed if this is how nice he could be when he was in it. Barry pulled him in for another kiss and Len took his hand out from Barry’s hair and took hold of one of Barry’s hands with it, entwining their fingers and pressing their joined hands to the mattress.

“You like that, my cock inside you?” He snapped his hips faster and Barry met each thrust, tried to remember words enough to respond, feeling heat build inside him, fingers tightening against Len’s.

 “ _Ah_ —you—know I do.”

Len kissed the side of his mouth, cock pressing in deep with each thrust. Barry was starting to come undone, heat coiling, tensing, insides clenching tighter around Len. It made him whine and Len groan.

“’Cmon Barry, wanna feel you.”

“ _Touch_ _me_ ,” he gasped, needy. Len groaned and shifted until one of Barry’s legs was over his shoulder, stretching him with the new angle, using his hand to hold Barry steady and he groaned at how it made Len’s cock hit his prostate on each thrust. Len pulled his other hand back from Barry’s and stroked his cock and Barry whined, clutching the sheets, eyes rolling back.

He couldn’t suppress the shudder that turned into vibration, white hot and pulling deep inside him, starting at the point where Len’s cock stretched him out and at the grip of his slick hand on Barry, firm and confident and—

“ _Fuck, Barry_ —”

He moaned again, mid-orgasm, feeling the stutter of Len’s hips, the choked up gasps he let out. Barry was never going to get tired of that, of Len tipping over the edge from his vibrations. His body was still clenching and unclenching, relaxing slowly, messy now with his own cum, trying to catch his breath.

Len came down moments later, settling on top of Barry without pulling out. Barry hummed, pleased, and trailed his fingers down Len’s back, the cooling sweat there.

“That was amazing.”

“Mm.” Len agreed, sounding content. “You said that last time.”

“It was amazing both times.”

“Still can’t believe you vibrate.”

He laughed, a little giddy. “Still can’t believe you’re such a tease.”

“Thought I should treat you right, considering…”

Considering last time, he was pretty sure Len meant. “Hope you’re not against dominating me _sometimes_ still.”

“Anytime you let me… Might have to put some of the toys in your closet to good use too, if I plan to keep up with your sex drive.”

Barry let out a strangled sound, squirming under Len. “You know about those?”

“Mhmm,” he sounded quite pleased with himself and kissed Barry’s shoulder. “You told me not to tease you about the crash course in porn—thanks, by the way—but you didn’t say anything about that toy chest. And the beads, Barry—I’m impressed. Those weren’t small.”

“Oh god.”

Len hummed, rolling his hips a little just to make Barry shudder.

“You’re a bastard.”

“Don’t forget it.”

“You gonna pull out anytime soon?”

“Mm, thinkin’ about it.”

He did though, finally, rolling over with a sigh before getting up to clean up and ditch the condom. Barry followed suit, laughing at himself in the bathroom mirror when he saw the state of his neck. “Leave enough love bites?” he called through the door.

“You tell me!”

He grinned and splashed water on his still-flushed cheeks before heading back out to Len’s room— _Len’s room in Len’s apartment this was really real_ —and tackling him back onto the bed.

“Hey.”

“Barry.”

Barry smiled and settled on top of him, cuddling. “I’ll let you up in a few minutes.”

Len sighed and accepted his fate, shifting to get one hand under himself as a pillow and the other absently traced circles on Barry’s back.

“No regrets?” he asked Barry after a quiet moment.

“Regretting not hiding my sex toys better.”

Len chuckled and Barry moved more to his side and less on top of him so he could lean up and look at him.

“I know it sucked for you, being de-aged, but I don’t regret that that happened either, Len.”

Len stiffened and Barry tried not to sigh. One step at a time.

“No,” he agreed softly after a minute, in that sort of serious way he had, when he wasn’t being droll. “I don’t regret that either.”

“I also don’t regret… that you grew back up.” Barry sat up so he could look down at Len, look him in the eye. “I missed you. This you.”

Len looked at him then looked away. “Do you miss him?”

He opened his mouth, then actually gave it some thought. After a minute, he smiled down at Len, feeling sure. “Y’know what? I don’t actually. Because you are him. He wasn’t you yet, but you’re all of him and more. Everything I knew he’d become.”

Len glanced at him, then away. He looked almost shy. “Right down to being an asshole about it all as soon as I grew back up. You predicted that one, if I recall.”

Barry let out a surprised laugh then dragged a hand over his face, cringing at the memory. “Yeah, well… guess I know you.”

“Better than I know myself?” There it was, that sardonic little lilt.

“Nah. Just well enough.”

Len was quiet again, something Barry was starting to recognize as contemplation on him, the way he wasn’t quite relaxed yet, still thinking. He wasn’t surprised when Len finally spoke up, voice quiet, “he loved you, you know.”

His breath caught in his throat, shaky when he let it out. It wasn’t something he expected Len to be able to say, at least not anytime soon. He didn’t even consider asking, figured he’d say it enough for both of them. But he felt loved, nonetheless. Because Len was Lenny, and Lenny was Len, and they both knew it.

“I love you too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it was longer than planned, but that's never really a surprise (and yet somehow always surprises me). The last scene here is actually sort of a bonus/epilogue, because the narrative really 'completes' itself with Len and Barry at the West house, choosing to be together. But eh, I promised smut on tumblr, and I like to keep my smut promises ;)
> 
> This fic is a bit different than some of my other ones, in that the secondary plot stays pretty, well, secondary. As much as I'd be interested in someone doing a lot more to explore the 'Flash detractors', this wasn't the fic to go into depth on it, it wasn't part of the scope here. But I did want to introduce the concept into my works, because I think it's a fascinating one worth exploring as a fandom. But Barry ends up acknowledging that he's *not* the guy for the job when it comes to Lady Fountain, and I sort of like that. He recognizes he has growing yet to do. 
> 
> But in terms of resolution and tension, I feel like the way I wrapped things up throughout this fic is a bit different than some of my other works, despite being ultimately similar (I have a pattern, I know that, I'm definitely not ashamed of it lol). But things don't break here, not in the same way, and I don't expose every detail. Barry doesn't learn (within the space of the narrative) about Lenny meeting up with Mick, and I didn't write out Joe's actual conversation to either of them. I left more up the imagination of the reader, with the happy knowledge that they got there and found themselves in love (at this age too), and did it without *too* much grief.
> 
> In any case, this was an adventure to write :) Thanks for being on this journey with me, and inspiring me, as you all always do.
> 
>  
> 
> [Come visit me on tumblr if you want to say hi!](http://coldtomyflash.tumblr.com)


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